What’s up mingemongers and moneyhoneys, my name’s Seven and this is my blog.
‘Twas a week of low-key hangouts for this portly punter, mostly in the company of one of the princes of Bangkok—though that’s not an apt nickname. It’s too long and ridiculous. Let’s call him BK Prince. The few times I ventured out, ‘twas in the company of BK Prince.
On Monday I met his highness at Paddy Reilly’s on Sathorn Soi 12. We proceeded to get daywrecked on SMLs and pints of Mahou on account of the 199b Monday sale. Then he insisted I go with him to Nana where he had business. That’s what we in the trade call ‘an offer you can’t refuse,’ and why would you want to? We sat on the Lollipop terrace and talked smack for a couple of hours while the NP gogo dancers slowly trickled in to work, which in short was a long, lovely parade of pretty birds, each more hard-on inspiring than the last. I’m not sure if I prefer them in their work environment or their natural element. A gogo dancer in regular street clothes is not unlike a living Christmas present, begging to be unwrapped.
The second time I rubbed elbows with BK Prince was at Backyard69 at District B in Phra Khanong. Backyard69 is a bar that shares a quaint outdoor space with several food kiosks, plus a snus outlet. It’s a great little oasis in the middle of an unassuming but up-and-coming neighborhood. To be honest, it’s further out than I prefer to travel—much further—and the folks out that way are…not my ilk. Hell, even the tourists looked like hillbillies. But the menu is, in a word, eclectic. There’s a Sunrise Tacos (full menu available), 5-Dollar Philly Cheesesteaks, Basketcase, which has everything from chili to tater tots to chicken wings to Thai food, a fruit shake shack, and Goodburgs smash burgers. I got a “Christmas treat” burger from Goodburgs and a vegetarian cheesesteak sandwich (mushrooms, swiss cheese, garlic, onions) from 5-Dollar. The latter was an accident. I didn’t read carefully enough and thought the mushrooms were a topping and not the beef substitute, but damn if it wasn’t an excellent sandwich. The Christmas burger was nothing less than orgasmic. Beef patty, fried Camembert, cranberry jam, bacon, turkey-n-gravy. It’s easily the best burger I’ve had all year. Unfortunately, it’s seasonal (hence the name) so if it sounds good to you, get your ass over to District B and get one. You won’t regret it.
On Tuesday, my harem girl canceled with this message, “Seven, I got hit by a car. Give me 500 for the hospital.” And yes, it’s shocking that ‘hit by a car’ only costs 15 American dollars to fix at a Thai hospital. ‘Twas equally surprising when she showed up at my door, ready to wrangle, a day later. She came over in the afternoon and following a brief bit of exercise, I sent her on her way and set out for G’s, and a plate of brats and sauerkraut. Then I swung over to K1 for a blussian (black Russian) and an Acid Blondie cigar. The food court was lousy with Euroscum and Chinese. The King’s girls all stop to wai me on their way to work. The tourists gape in wonder. I’m sure they think I own the joint. It used to happen all the time when I hung out on the XXX Lounge terrace. “Hey bro, are you the boss?” Nope, just a Pongrat. “How does everybody know who you are?” I live here. “What do you mean?” I mean I’m not a tourist. “Oh, that’s cool…how are you able to stay in the country?” I have a retirement visa. “Oh…how old do you have to be to get one of those?” 50. “Ah, shit.” That was back in 2018. Now I just say, “I don’t speak English.”
Three fat farang clams dressed like whores and one beta cuck weaved their way through the night market crowd, aiming for K1 but chickened out last minute and went shoe shopping. Probably a smart move on the part of the clams. One look at the stage and their soyboy might be lost forever.
Some dude passed by, pointed at my cocktail and shouted “Italy!” I gave him a look like he had shit smeared on his face. He said, “Never mind,” and walked on. A new K1 hostess approached and asked, “Are you happy?” It’s the USA equivalent of “Everything OK?” I responded in Thai and we had the obligatory convo…where are you from, how old are you, poot Thai gang mak, ngoo-ngoo pla-pla, did you eat yet, etc. I asked why she wasn’t on the pole, since she was clearly hot. She said she can’t dance. I said that hasn’t stopped most of the girls onstage. Then I crushed out my cigar and slipped into K2 where I recognized no one except the mamasan who said, “Seven! I saw you at the ATM.” That was way over on Soi 3. I think a lot of Pong girls live over there.
Wednesday was daisy dukes night in Virgin. I feel like I’m close to polishing off the last of their Southern Comfort and I’m not gonna lie, it worries me. When I drank the last of K1’s Kahlua, it took them a year to replace it. King’s Corner had so many new girls, I barely recognized anyone. Two 20-girl rotations made for a sea of eye candy. A veteran who’s name I can’t recall grabbed my phone and took a selfie. It’s included in this week’s slideshow companion (embedded below).
On Friday I beelined to NanaP and Angelwitch to hang with Joey D and soak up the tunes. The DJ pumped U2, followed by “Stayin’ Alive” followed by Steve Miller. Keep on a’rockin’ me, baby. Geisha was already going off at 20.40. There were two 20-girl rotations and shit-tons of customers. Two perfect 10s graced the stage, along with two 9s—not including the bubble bath.
A seasoned monger can tell within seconds whether or not a gogo dancer is a good fuck. A blonde in the tub was definitely one. I discerned this by the way she danced—lost in the rhythm, unconcerned with her exposed naughty bits, oblivious to whose eyes devoured her. Unaware of her own sexual appeal. A girl like that will do anything in the sack, with no compunction. The other edge of that sword is, of course, the fact that she’s been railed by half the customers in Nana. So there’s something to be said about the uninitiated diamonds-in-the-rough as well. Both kinds of gogo clunge have their pros and cons.
I saw lots of dudes in Geisha hugging girls in that way that looks like they’re afraid to let go, as though if they did, some other greaseball would snap her up and within minutes be pounding her in a short-time hotel. And I suppose it’s that time of the season for barfining. If you’re a noob, you probably should hang onto your girl for dear life.
The guy who owns Geisha also owns Twister and Virgin, which is why so many Twister girls moved to Virgin, and why the Virgin overflow are now at Geisha. The joint is demonstrably more stuffed with girls and mongers, which could partially be thanks to me and my buds at bangkoknites and gogohoppinig. Not to brag, but when we share a bar’s posts on FB and X, they get exponentially more traffic than other bars. It’s also thanks to you, reader. When you share the posts, you spread the love. And personally, I think the more gogo content people get, the more good will there is in this cruel world.
Speaking of Twister, my buds Oil, Puy, and Luktal were all on the clock on Friday. They asked me to buy them dinner, so we all sat on the terrace while the girls ate karthom and I cupped a few butt cheeks.
Then I was off to Patpong and K2, where Offy accosted me. I saw three other girls who Id’ve preferred to buy drinks for but Offy staked a claim and that was all she wrote for this portly pussy paruser. What’s it called when a chick cockblocks you? Clungeblocking?
Virgin had half a dozen new girls. Best molested (moBested?) me for a 100b fine and then buggered off to harass a different customer.
‘Twas a rough week for my Thai morale. Yes, Thailand is the greatest country on Earth and yes, 90% of people in every country are brain-dead retards. It’s not exclusive to TLOS. But sometimes the lack of common sense, critical thinking skills, and thinking ahead among some Thais in positions of influence can be……..frustrating. My friend Lucky made a keen observation in this regard. A couple years ago, he survived being run over by an 18-wheeler while motorbiking from Hua Hin to BKK. Believe it or not, his nickname was already Lucky, before the incident. The driver was an off-duty cop doing his 2nd job of driving a truck he wasn’t trained to operate. Then, Lucky spent a month in hospital and quickly learned that the nurses, orderlies, and other lower-tier staff were equally as skilled as your random street sweeper or 7-11 clerk. It was as though any random idiot could walk in off the street, ask for a job, and get thrown a hospital uniform.
I’ve recently wrestled with similar incompetence in my own mundane life. Because Thailand relies so heavily on tourism, sometimes just an elementary grasp of English is a sufficient qualification to be hired, regardless of mental retardation.
If you’re new to my content, you might not know that every December, I make the rounds of a few hotel holiday buffets and fancy Christmas dinners. One of my faves for the past half-decade is the Xmas ‘do’ at Bardo Bistro on Sathorn Soi 10. Last year, I missed it, because unlike previous years where they served the special menu throughout the month, they decided to only serve it on the 24th and 25th and I already had buffets booked for those days. This year, though, they advertised on FB that they’d start serving it on the 23rd (last night, at time of posting). So I made a reservation for 18.00 and showed up, filled to the brim with excitement, only for the goddam server to say, “No. No Christmas today. Tomorrow start.” I was livid. He tried to hand me their regular menu, but I got up and left, hoofing it down to Paddy Reilly, and ordered the lamb shank with a glass of red. Then I messaged Bardo’s FB with a screen grab of their advert showing the 23rd as the starting date. They responded and said, “Yes, it starts today. The employee was mistaken.” I almost threw a chair through Paddy’s window. Normally in this instance, I would write off Bardo for good and never ever darken their door again, but against my better judgement I made a new reservation for tonight—Christmas Eve—and however things turn out (I’m not holding out hope) I’ll report on it in a “Holiday Pigout” Substack after 1 January.
Then I hopped a motaxi t’Pong, and the fucker tried to take me the long way around to Surawong. I kept saying “No, no, no” and told him in Thai that I wanted to go to the Silom Road side. He ignored me until I attempted to dismount the bike at 20kph. It was as if his brain couldn’t call an audible, or make a change mid-action. It’s an epidemic in Thailand, God bless them every one. On the same day, the big Thai boss at my work (I have like 11 Thai bosses who all say something different about everything) emailed to say he planned a New Year’s party on 5 January, right when all the foreigners are working. At the end of the email, he said he expected all farang to attend. Attend how, fuckface? We’re working at that time.
Anyway, I grabbed a Nitro Merlin to go from G’s and took it to the K1 terrace to make a black nyet’ro and smoke a DE Tabak. The night market was positively rammed with cunt tourists. Thank Buddha the staff got my drink order right. Though as I topped-off my BR with Nitro, a new hostess ran over and said, “No! Cannot.” I told her to go get the boss. She’d pulled him halfway out the door before he spotted me, then stopped her and said, “That’s Seven. He can do what he wants.”
After polishing off the cigar and the nyet’ro I slipped into K1 for a vodka. A new girl on stage caught my eye with a set of sixpack abs and those lines above her pelvis that make my knees weak. I paid her a hundy to run my fingers along her waist and another hundy to snap a photo, which I’ve included in this week’s slideshow companion (embedded below this post). Then Offy came over to clungeblock me again so I bailed to Virgin, where none of my galpals were on the clock. Nat was there, and Jane…it’s hard to believe it’s been six years sing I last fucked Jane. In the interim, she squeezed out a kid. I’ve no interest in her now. But jumping Buddha’s bocce balls, was she ever fun back in the day. Virgin’s hired a couple of new hostesses. They were adorned in matching pink dresses. I’ve included pics in this week’s slideshow (embedded below).
Then I ambled over to K Corner and the biggest lineup in Patpong. There must’ve been a hundred girls in there. I counted 11 former conquests plus three newbies Id’ve nailed in my youth.
Quick update on last week’s NanaP stabbing story…it turns out only one security guard got poked by only one knife-wielding Ruskie. Said Ruskie is already out of jail, by the way.
In other news, Netflix has turned out a gem of an animated TV series called “Blue Eye Samurai.” Gorgeous, gory, gritty, and beautiful. I highly recommend taking a few hours off of whatever you normally do to give it a watch. My favorite aspect, after the stunning artwork, is how clearly and unapologetically it portrays the pure, unadulterated racism of the Japanese. White people are dogs. Mixed race women are subhuman. Mmmmmm, that’s some sweet bigotry.
I didn’t get over to Soi Cowboy this week, but thankfully Bee from Rainbow sent me a few sexy home selfies, which I’ve added to this week’s slideshow (scroll down to view).
And that’s all the monger that’s fit to ponder for now, friends. Check back next Sunday for another summary of this redlight life. In the meantime, you can read more about Bangkok life on my Substack: https://bangkokseven.substack.com/
Artwork and photo albums from inside the gogos are available for digital download at https://bentbox.co/bangkoksevenart at super-low prices.
Slideshows from previous blogs going back several years can be found at https://www.youtube.com/c/BangkokSeven
Follow me on Twitter/X @BangkokSeven for daily pics from the redlight, and until next time fellow BK Bukowskis and Bathshebas, 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: If people spread lies about you, don’t even take notice. That’s on them. As they said in ancient Rome, “Illegitimi non carborundum.” But if people talk shit about you and it’s true, it’s nobody’s fault but your own.
