What’s up mingemongers and moneyhoneys, my name’s Seven and this is my weekly confession.
On Sunday I slid into G’s German for his signature spare ribs, which were out of this world. Guido broke the news that he’d most likely move permanently to Ptown at the end of the year. ‘Twas another sad reminder that nothing good stays forever. Big G also shared news he’d heard from a group of new investors, who want to move in on the Pong. They will turn it into a modern high-rise similar to Park Silom, with hip restaurants, offices, etc. sometime in the next three to four years. So Patpong’s days are numbered, same as G’s. And so are ours. All good things come to an end, and so much of what made my redlight life spectacular has slipped away: Le Bouchon (technically they just moved to Sathorn but it’s too far), Electric Blue, The Strip, Madrid, Thigh Bar, Kiss Bar, Superstar, all but one of my original harem and galpals. Now G’s and the Pong itself. Then the only redlights left in Bangkok with be Cowboy and Nana, which for the most part are just tourist traps. I guess that’ll be my cue to pull out and relocate to Ptown. In the meantime, though, it’s time to Pongparty like it’s 1999. We’ve got a few years left so it’s up to us mongers to make it the best last years Pongpossible. All I want out of life is to keep a gang of concs and have a quiet corner of sin to wallow in like the pig I am. But I guess that’s too much to ask. Cowboy and Nana aren’t for dudes like me. The Bangkok barfly is a fish out of water in both of those redlights. What will we have once the Pong is gone?
On Sunday I flitted through K1 and K Corner, not recognizing a single lass onstage save for one veteran in the former, and a prodigal friend in the latter by the name of Pla, a popular hottie (popottie for short, copyright BKK7) at Black Pagoda back in the day. I inquired where she’d been. She said she took time off to be with her kid. I slipped a hundy in her knickers as a welcome back gift. Then I spotted yet another former hottie who’d become unrecognizable thanks to packing on too many kilos. She’s an old Pink Panther girl who is now unfuckable thanks to ice cream and KFC.
On Tuesday I decided to give my kidneys a break and ate only fruit: apples, watermelon, pineapple, and dried bananas. I thought it’d be good for my physiognamy to eat all-natural for a change. In the middle of the night, I was awakened by the worst cramps I’d ever felt, and the following day I dumped a bowl full of chocolate pudding in my toilet no less than 9 times. Am I so toxic from burgers and pizza that my body rejects fruit? I don’t know, but lesson learned. It’s gummy bears and Doritos from now till the grave for this pudgy punter. My organs were actually sore for days afterward.
Wednesday was another fecking dry day.
On Thursday I found myself back in Pattaya again, albeit sooner than I’d hoped, but ‘twas unavoidable. I had to take care of some visa-related business that could only be done in Ptown, so down I went. I skipped View Talay for once and got a standard room in the Serenotel on Soi 10. :”Standard” is code for “room the size of a walk-in closet.” I’d booked 2 nights but I already wanted out early. That was before I knew all the minutia involved in getting the visa. Turns out they needed a couple days. In all, I wanted one run at the 6 and a couple cocktails on walking street…maybe a sunset cigar in a rooftop bar somewhere and that’d do it. I was still haunted by three recent weeks held prisoner there by my bedridden brother.
Just two short weeks ago when the sib and I were there, the weather was cool and breezy. As of Thursday the temps are 50% closer to the sweltering torture of Songkran weather. The town was smashed with people. After a nap I unconsciously hopped a baht bus to Walking Street and went straight to Pin-Up. I actually spotted some hot freelancers on the Beach Road, but this old monger’s not to that point yet. I’ve a friend in his 80s who lives in Ptown and on weekends doubles up on Beach Road meat, popping kamags in between. And that’s definitely my future but not just yet. P/U had a dozen new 10s. That place is just crazy.
Then I hit Shark, the new kid on the block. On the whole their girls aren’t as hot as Pin-Up but there are around 10 fine foxes in the mix, plus their draft beers are 55b, and Pin-Up’s are 95. In XS I spotted a chick that I’m pretty sure I nailed in 2012. She looked like that football you got for Christmas when you were almost too old to get a football for Christmas and now can’t bear to throw out. Crusty, partially-deflated, with most of the leather rubbed off. She didn’t recognize me, thank Buddha. In the seat next to me was a swarthy looking fellow who actually barfined. I couldn’t believe it. All-in it must’ve been over 4 grand. But I can understand what comes over a dude who normally never gets female attention suddenly has a girl grinding in his lap. You lose all sensibility.
In Chick, one of the security guards said, “Two weeks not see you.” Jesus, talk about facial recognition. The Thais are amazing at it. The other day I got in the lift in my building with a lady I didn’t recognize. “15th floor, right?” She said. How the fuck did she know that? She got off on 3! After happy hour, the mini drafts go up to 120. Cheeky.
The next morning I was in a car with two other old farang, heading to the bank and then Immigration with our Thai visa concierge. Thankfully, neither wanted to chat. Or maybe my headphones deterred them. One bloke never spoke. The other, a hard-edged Brummie, talked with our hostess only, until we got to Immigration and sat down. Then he became quite chatty.
While doing our business, we learned that starting Monday (tomorrow at time of posting) the banks are not permitted to make copies of statements for the proof of the minimum savings requirement. The rumor is, it’s a result of somebody somewhere moving too much money at one time, but I blame the DTV debacle for all of it. Full disclosure, I applied for at remote worker DTV through the Los Angeles consulate on 3 December while still in Cali, and it still hasn’t been processed. The morons can’t understand that I worked in Thailand last year under a Non-B and as such do not have a US tax return. But that’s just one of a myriad cockups taking place in embassies and consulate around the globe. There was a honeymoon period from July to December where if you went through Cambodia or Vietnam you got your DTV easy-peasy. But now those locations are fucked, precisely because they made it too easy. Currently–and this is a throwback to last week’s post–you can pay 95k to stay in TLOS and just have someone do it for you in one day’s time. I wish I had that much cash to flush down the toilet, but as it is I must do it the old fashioned way–via the retirement visa.
It took an hour at the bank first, and then 5 seconds at Immigration. Then I motaxi’d back to the hotel for lunch at their lovely rooftop restaurant–the highlight of the place–and a nap. When I awoke, I tried to decide between an afternoon on The 6 or maybe a massage. After ruminating for a minute, I picked up my phone, called a Grab, and hoofed it straight back to Bangkok. I didn’t have it in me to stay in Ptown. I’m an uncomplicated monger. Give me my harem and a terrace seat in Patpong.
Driving through the back alleys of Pattaya, the corners were stacked with Valentine’s Day gifts. All those old punters with their Thai girlfriends are easy targets. My concs expect nothing, thank Cupid. Even so, I picked up roses for my number 1, because she’s 22 and sentimental.
I left a sunny breezy Ptown, and every mile closer to BKK, the sky got darker and gloomier. I actually thought we were driving into a storm. But it was just the negativity cloud caused by all the mongers hating on tourists. Or so I imagine. I arrived home in time for an early Pong, where stupid GenZ (but I repeat myself) American clams clogged up the food court like yeast in a spoilt vagina. No situational awareness, cow-eyed and slack-jawed. A poor Chinese dude tried to push his mother in a wheelchair through a herd of the farang. I finally shouted, “move, idiots!” and they dispersed without looking in my direction.
I meant to get some grub at Derby King but they were full, so I got a watermelon shake instead and poured a vodka soda into it. Damn, did that ever hit the spot. Offy passed by on her way to K1 and tried to give me a chocolate bar for Valentine’s. I said “Thank you, no.” She looked relieved. I think it was originally meant for someone else. Once my shake was gone I followed her into King’s. There were only five girls onstage, and I surmised that many were probably out with their Thai boyfriends. That tracked, because what remained to clomp around the stage were gals who didn’t look hot enough to snag a bf. The scene was similarly shabby at K Corner, but at least nobody hits me up for drinks in there. I can relax. Plus there were two full 20-girl rotations. I guess its the gals-with-no-boyfriend bar. The old K2 and the new K2 both open at half 8, so I stuck around the Corner for two vodkas before slipping across the Soi, where the New2 stage was sparsely populated, though there was one standout hottie front and center, with a thin lithe body and an innocent face so sweet the vampire in me stirred with sinister plans. The girls who usually bilks me for drinks was MIA, thankfully. I slipped the newhottie a hundy and asked her name. It’s the same as the previously mentioned bilker, so that won’t be hard to remember, but I foresee some name-related confusion in my future.
Then I blundered into VirginX, which has again transitioned at least partway back into a katoey gogo. It’s around half and half. I can’t for the life of me figure how or why or when or why any sensible bar owner would try that. You’ll weed out all the straight punters, leaving the real ladies bereft of customers. The only regular dudes who go in there will be ones who’re tricked into it. And that’s the great terror of every American I know. They all saw Hangover 2. They think they’ll be deceived into going home with a transistor. No, that’s not a spellcheck mistake. I don’t know how to talk about them without getting cancelled. One thing I know for sure: on a night out, I don’t want the extra chore of weeding out the stick shifts from the automatics. I’m officially done with VX. But not Virgin original, which is a gogo I feel at home in.
In other news, Patpong has been plagued with nightly crowds on Soi 2–they aren’t tourists, they’re a movie crew. They’ve commandeered the old Black Pagoda location and utilized the whole of the soi up to Surawong to film scenes. The wardrobe room had tons of tiny, gaudy gogo dancer cosplay outfits plus regular garb for non-gogo actors.
In his most recent blog pretending to be Dave the Rave, Bob the Knob visited Ptown and provided the following kernels of wisdom: 1—there’s no high season anymore because high season used to be when Westerners came out for their Xmas break, and now all the tourists are Asian, and Asians don’t celebrate Xmas. Wrong, dipshit. High season is high season because of the cooler temperatures in wintertime. How stupid are you? 2—there are new katoey bars, 3—a gogo called Shark opened over yonder, and 4—Soi Diamond is busy again. I’m not kidding, that’s what he tried to pass off as news. Jesus tapdancing Christ, what a brain-dead piece of shit. And as predicted, he’s already posting garbage on Dave’s social, eg “If you’re in Patpong, just go to these 3 bars (inserts the ones who pay him and not coincidentally are the least-busy gogos in Patpong) and avoid the rest.” How dim do you have to be to think that kind of tripe works? It’s a sad ending to Dave’s great legacy to be replaced with this putz’s retarded content.
This week’s Members Only Gallery is a (hopefully not rife with duplicates) array of photos from inside Bada Bing in 2019, back when it was still a hotspot. The link is here: https://bangkokseven.com/members-only-gallery-pre-covid-bada-bing/
but only if you become a Member. The price is $1 per month, and new content is added weekly. I’m too dumb to figure out how to link the weekly posts to a single button on my website, so I post the links on my social every Friday, and provide a summary of all posts at the end of each month. Sorry for the inconvenience.
And that’s all the monger that’s fit to ponder for now, friends. Sorry for all the typos. I didn’t proofread. Check back next Sunday for another summary of this redlight life. In the meantime, you can read more Bangkok-centric stuff on my Substack: https://bangkokseven.substack.com/
Slideshows from previous blogs going back several years can be found at https://www.youtube.com/c/BangkokSeven
My buddy Jack and I host a growing Facebook community with lots of nightlife-related content at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/thaiagogo
and I’ve got a small but robust group of pervs posting photos daily at a group called Super Hot Asians here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/374120690195407
Follow me on Twitter/X @BangkokSeven for daily monger material, along with these other profiles that’re chock full of photos of hotties:
@superhotthais
@BangkokNightli2
If you’re feeling generous, you can leave a tip on any of the above X profiles. All proceeds will go to creating more redlight content for you.
Thai chick-related artwork can be purchased at https://www.etsy.com/shop/ThailandNights
And until next time fellow BK Bukowskis and Bathshebas, keep your balls (or tits) warm, your beer cold, and cheers to another week above ground in the greatest country on Earth: Thailand.
Pro Tip Post-Script: This is a suggestion for those moguls who’re poised to take over Patpong. If you do replace it with a skyscraper and fill it with malls, restaurants, and offices maybe reserve one floor of the building for gogo bars. It’d be a fitting homage to old Patpong.
