Saturday, August 27, 2005
Bexinor
by venitha
Here I was all set to ignore the snarky comments about Bexinor, and then I see this:
26 Aug, Fri, 16:32:12 MSN Search: bexinor
in Extreme Tracking's list of referrers to our blog.
These two crack me up, too:
24 Aug, Wed, 06:26:35 MSN Search: What Can I do about a Bad Haircut
24 Aug, Wed, 11:57:01 MSN Search: local singaporean sex stories for free
Several things are obvious. First, eXTReMe Tracking ranks very high on the coolness scale. Click here and see if you can find yourself in the list of Singapore Adventure visitors. Second, strange but interesting people use MSN for their web searches. Lastly, if you don't want me to know you're reading this, you're going to have to be more subtle.
Now back to the Bexinor...
It is a dark and stormy night. Or at least it's as dark as it gets with Bangkok's light pollution. And now that I think about it, it's actually not stormy at all, in spite of the fact that it is the rainy season.
Rail-thin Thai whores beckon lustily from every doorway along lower Sukhumvit. "Hello! Where you going?"
The sidewalks outside the rent-by-the-hour rooms are busy with hawkers serving blow-your-socks-off tôm yam soup and to-die-for green chicken curry. Signs in red-lit windows offer Thai massage... and more.
A tall, dark, and handsome farang argues with his moody sidekick on a street corner as they cross sticks over the last remaining piece of pineapple in their little plastic bag.
"But you scarfed all the spicy food," he points out truthfully.
She mops her copious tears and her sweaty forehead with a beautiful batik-patterned Thai handkerchief and laughs melodramatically, "Wah ha ha ha!" Stretching her arms wide as she flags down a túk-túk, she spins in a circle, adamantly declares "This space is mine!" and disappears in a puff of diesel smoke.
A pretty prostitute pirouettes across the street, leaping in a graceful jetée through the sidekick's claimed space to slide up like an angel - or is she a devil? - at our hero's side. "Hey, big Buddha."
But the farang is looking past her, at a nearby pharmacy's flickering neon lights. A white face mask would make a good peace-offering, he thinks.
"The pharmacy's closed," the whore helpfully informs him, following his gaze. "Buddhist holiday today." But he is too suave to fall for the infamous Bangkok gem scam.
"I get my kicks above the waistline, sunshine," he says and edges sweatily past her, whistling One Night In Bangkok hotly down her neck.
A boldly lettered sign propped up in a pile of mangoes seductively catches his eye.
Before-During-After 3-D Set Meal: Viagra-Condom-Bexinor
He hands the wiry man behind the counter a 100 baht note. "Kháwp khun," he stutters out in mangled Thai.
I toss and turn on the lumpy mattress at the Viengtai Hotel like the princess and the pea. Daybreak reveals, however, that I'm simply her highness' luckless older poor relation, destined to remain forever bruised and undiscovered.
"I had the weirdest dream," I say to the empty space beside me on the bed, then scoot over to see if Jim's side is any more civilized.
Nope, no better, so with a sigh, I get up and rifle through our suitcase. At least this place has a Western toilet, I think. Not that I'll ever get to use it.
"The crème de la crème of the chess world in a show with everything but Yuuuuul Brynner," I tell Jim through the bathroom door. "You should probably take some Bexinor."
venitha
26 Aug, Fri, 16:32:12 MSN Search: bexinor
in Extreme Tracking's list of referrers to our blog.
These two crack me up, too:
24 Aug, Wed, 06:26:35 MSN Search: What Can I do about a Bad Haircut
24 Aug, Wed, 11:57:01 MSN Search: local singaporean sex stories for free
Several things are obvious. First, eXTReMe Tracking ranks very high on the coolness scale. Click here and see if you can find yourself in the list of Singapore Adventure visitors. Second, strange but interesting people use MSN for their web searches. Lastly, if you don't want me to know you're reading this, you're going to have to be more subtle.
Now back to the Bexinor...
It is a dark and stormy night. Or at least it's as dark as it gets with Bangkok's light pollution. And now that I think about it, it's actually not stormy at all, in spite of the fact that it is the rainy season.
Rail-thin Thai whores beckon lustily from every doorway along lower Sukhumvit. "Hello! Where you going?"
The sidewalks outside the rent-by-the-hour rooms are busy with hawkers serving blow-your-socks-off tôm yam soup and to-die-for green chicken curry. Signs in red-lit windows offer Thai massage... and more.
A tall, dark, and handsome farang argues with his moody sidekick on a street corner as they cross sticks over the last remaining piece of pineapple in their little plastic bag.
"But you scarfed all the spicy food," he points out truthfully.
She mops her copious tears and her sweaty forehead with a beautiful batik-patterned Thai handkerchief and laughs melodramatically, "Wah ha ha ha!" Stretching her arms wide as she flags down a túk-túk, she spins in a circle, adamantly declares "This space is mine!" and disappears in a puff of diesel smoke.
A pretty prostitute pirouettes across the street, leaping in a graceful jetée through the sidekick's claimed space to slide up like an angel - or is she a devil? - at our hero's side. "Hey, big Buddha."
But the farang is looking past her, at a nearby pharmacy's flickering neon lights. A white face mask would make a good peace-offering, he thinks.
"The pharmacy's closed," the whore helpfully informs him, following his gaze. "Buddhist holiday today." But he is too suave to fall for the infamous Bangkok gem scam.
"I get my kicks above the waistline, sunshine," he says and edges sweatily past her, whistling One Night In Bangkok hotly down her neck.
A boldly lettered sign propped up in a pile of mangoes seductively catches his eye.
Before-During-After 3-D Set Meal: Viagra-Condom-Bexinor
He hands the wiry man behind the counter a 100 baht note. "Kháwp khun," he stutters out in mangled Thai.
I toss and turn on the lumpy mattress at the Viengtai Hotel like the princess and the pea. Daybreak reveals, however, that I'm simply her highness' luckless older poor relation, destined to remain forever bruised and undiscovered.
"I had the weirdest dream," I say to the empty space beside me on the bed, then scoot over to see if Jim's side is any more civilized.
Nope, no better, so with a sigh, I get up and rifle through our suitcase. At least this place has a Western toilet, I think. Not that I'll ever get to use it.
"The crème de la crème of the chess world in a show with everything but Yuuuuul Brynner," I tell Jim through the bathroom door. "You should probably take some Bexinor."
venitha
