PREFACE: AGAINST ALL ODDS

“The waiting is the hardest part”—Tom Petty

Yeah sure, the stock market is at an all-time high. Yep, unemployment is big-time down. But anyone who works as an Adjunct College Professor knows—times ain’t great. Every year it seems to get tougher to squeeze out my little one month of heaven. The Powers That Be do the squeezing in a variety of ways. Never mind no benefits or employment guarantees. Increasing class sizes from 16 to 25 so you need to hire fewer teachers. Giving more classes to salaried full timers so you need less teachers. I lose even a single class, I lose $5,000. I lose my trip. And if I lose the trip, I’m into MAINTANANCE mode. Into the dull homogeny of simple EXISTANCE. Not where I want to be.

I’m branching out. I’m known in Chicago, beginning to be known nationally. I made a movie this year. Have two projects in the works. There are many plates spinning in my world. The goal? To supplement Social Security ($1,000 if I take it at 62, only 6 years from now) with internet teaching and “passive income”, live out the 3rd Act with a modicum of style.
All this, I’m sure, just thrilling for you to hear. Bring on the report, and the bitches…

THE TRIP: CHI TO HONG KONG

Cathay Pacific. Sure, they’re great. Good food, 200 movies and TV shows, I do the Chicago-Hong Kong 16+ hour trip without sleep watching HUNGER GAMES, ELYSIUM, LONE SURVIVOR… Not so great, literally 1/3rd of the trip in turbulence, enough to keep the seat belt sign on and rattle plastic cups filled with Coke. What the FUCK.

PACIFIC BREEZE HOTEL: “MORNING, SIR PAUL!”

Happy to serve. Pacific Breeze driver, as always, waiting for me at the gate. I used to be a Central Park guy in the days before the massive expansion. Guy tells me it’s almost ready to go, marble lobby and everything. Next trip, perhaps. This trip I end up in Pacific Breeze room 708 (last year it was 606). The room is quiet (all the way in the back of the corridor) and cool and dark. I’m in for the month and they know me so it’s a given that they’ll have four pillows ready for me. My 50-pound bag will be brought into the room from storage filled with outfits and vibrators. The mini-bar will be emptied in advance, the AC checked and working. Every door guy knows my name from Day 1. The housekeepers all seem to know me, the front desk clerks too. I recognize some of their faces but you get the sense of amazing continuity with the Pacific Breeze staff. What I’m trying to say is that Guy runs a great establishment and I highly recommend it.

TIP EARLY, TIP HEAVY

Want the locals to bend over backwards for you? Show kindness. I tip early, and tip heavy. Pacific Breeze car in from the airport is $70 bucks but the driver who is stuck at the airport all hours of the night waiting for me if my flight is late, who lugs my bags to the car and drives me safely to the hotel, makes jack shit—so I tip him well. The door guy jumps on my luggage and brings it upstairs for me—tip him too. Another door guy has to dig out my bag from storage-tip him. Another guy has to adjust my air-conditioner and fix a busted lamp- tipped. The maid who will do my room knows me in advance because last year I tipped the maid 1500p after a month’s stay, knows that I want four pillows, four towels, and she’s to do my room between 10 and 11 because after 12 it’s a Pussy Parade. And, most importantly, NEVER to take the key out and leave it up front. That would shut off the air-conditioning, and that is not fucking happening for the next 30 days. Key stays in the slot, doll. Tip, end of trip.

The tipping goes for Raymond Street too. Want them to know you’re coming and to give service up the wazzu? Barfine is 800. Are you really gonna pocket the extra 200? Or are you gonna disperse it so the girls you didn’t pick can have some food for lunch? Those few bucks are gonna bring back goodwill like crazy.

At the restaurant too. Usually Kokomos, where they all know not just my name, but my EXACT ORDER, before I even ask for it. This happens because I’m predictable in what I eat, sure. But also because I’ll give 100 tip on a 350 food bill. The salary these girls make are nothing less than slave wages. I can afford a $3 buck tip. If I can’t—I’ll stay the fuck home.

ANGELES CITY: CONTINUITY & THE SMALL TOWN ASPECT

I love the continuity of Angeles City. The small-town aspect. I can walk from one side of town to the edges of the Perimeter in about 20 minutes. Pacific Breeze/Central Park are utterly central. I’m two blocks from Ground Zero- Raymond Street. I’m also steps from Kokomos and my daily breakfast. Mamacitas, my laundry joint, is three blocks away. SM Mall is a 100p five minute tryke ride away. Everything is right there.

Discussing this with Gary, my friend who lives in Pattaya, he asked what I love about Angeles so much. First thing I said: The small town head. He said: But there’s no anonymity. I said yeah, that’s the point. He said, oh, I get it, but I like my anonymity. It is one of the fundamental differences of Patts vs AC. You can live in Patts for years, like Gary, but still do anything, anonymously. In AC, word gets around.

THE FACEBOOK EFFECT

Changed mongering forever. When I considered heading back to Medellin this year, I did some homework. The new landscape for any monger location factors in the Facebook effect. What I saw in Medellin was that favorites have reached cult Facebook Diva status. Way popular among the gringos who pound boards like Costa Rica Ticas, who stay at apartments that didn’t exist on the market when I first started going to Medellin in ’07. They don’t need the Mansion now for girl connex, just hit the Facebook network of chicks for whom they’ll pay north of $100—plastic surgery babes with bloated tits and curves. Contacted ‘em via Facebook, all so streamlined.

Sure, I’m on Facebook in AC. This way the girls don’t disappear from trip to trip. Use to be so sad when a great girl vanished from a club and her phone # was disconnected. Facebook ends that. You’re in touch—Oh Christ, are you in touch! Facebook is my concession to modernity. The writer of these dribbles will now admit that he—God forbid—doesn’t own a cellphone. He has never—incredibly—sent a text message in his life. The notion of constant communication is highly overrated.

I make concessions, though, when getting laid is concerned. I’ve got about 12 chicks I talk to regularly on Facebook. Only a couple have tried to milk me for money when I’m out of town and I’ve shot down their desperate causes so they know better. It’s great having so many of them on Facebook. I’ve run three Facebook conversations at once (what’s your record?) Girls working the bar, girls at home. They want to come over. There is only so much cock or cash, so decisions need be made. Dance cards filled out a day or more in advance, time slots allocated.

Absurd wealth.

THEY DELIVER THEMSELVES TO ME

I am pursued. Some perverse logic in me wants to experiment: How many days could I go without leaving my air-conditioned bear cave, aka Room 708 of the Pacific Breeze. I schedule them at 12, 2(3), 7 and, if I have any energy left, 10. It’s easy to go down to Raymond Street and pay in advance, booking chicks for specific short time sessions. With sometimes less than 30 minutes between, I wonder about why I even bother with the pretense of putting on clothes. Chinese Fire Drill. Waking up from a siesta at 8:45pm and having 15 minutes to shower, brush teeth, powder and dress, take the night’s dose of 100mg of Viagra and 10Mg of Cialis. The countenance of the sex addict presents itself with 10 of them between four joints on Raymond. 5-10 old favs on Facebook. Handful of Fields sneak outs---they deliver themselves and are constantly on me. This is what comes of $250 a day budgets. I know it’s the content of my wallet they desire, but in Angeles (as opposed to Pattaya) there’s more than that.

And that is what evens the playing field. Angeles is filled with cute 6’s and 7’s who will watch SNAKES ON A PLANE with you. Patts has the 2% body fat Goddesses who ain’t delivering anything to anybody for more than 90 minutes. The Pacific Breeze Booty Call telephone never stops. I’ve had to unplug it, literally, to get any sleep at all. Quite something.

RAYMOND STREET: LAY OF THE LAND

I’m no good with bar names, so let’s just say you’re walking down Raymond Street and you come across the four bars—now 2 1/2 – that make up Raymond Street. There are some topics where my opinion is valueless—say in the disciplines of basket weaving or macroeconomics—but there are some things I have expertise in, and one of them is Raymond Street. Here are the ladies you should seek out as of July 1, 2014. Photos included….

RAYMOND STREET 1… ASHLEY, CINDY

ASHLEY and CINDY are old flames from last year. Great chicks who love sex. Both skinny and sexy, trained in the art of the foul mouth. Take them and use them at your will. Ashley was a touch hotter last year but though the dues of a full year on Raymond Street have worn a bit, she’s well worth a try. I love skinny chicks and that’s CINDY. These two come at me as one, basically begging me to fuck them. I know full well they’d be a tad less enthusiastic without my money. Still, it’s cool to have attained rock star status for two hours, or a month. These are the scenes that happen in no Wrigleyville.

RAYMOND STREET 2….DAY: MARIEL, MARY JANE, JULIEANN, CHRISTY. NIGHT: LISA

I’m pretty sure this is still called Lovely Paradise. I don’t investigate here by night too often but LISA is a load. 21 and looks younger. The daytime lineup has no less than four killers, led by the M and M twins—not really sisters but they look it—MARIEL and MARY JANE. I give Mary Jane the slight edge in looks and smuttiness but Mariel holds her own and together they are shark-eyed. Took them to the pool, came back and they insisted on fucking me together. Well, if you insist. Fucking Mariel whilst Mary Jane stares and kisses me? These are the good old days. Do them.

JULIEANNE is new, blonde, an anorexic feline look. She’s been through the ringer and has the skills to prove it. Bring you’re A-game. “Little more cock, baby?” “Up to you.” Ok, then!

CHRISTY is 19, with smooth skin, long black hair, and tight body of a 19 year-old. Did I mention she was 19?

RAYMOND STREET 4 (PADLOCKED)…BEA, MADEL

Raymond Street 3 is nuked, a dead stick. Raymond Street 4 is open—kinda. The girls will either be in front of the door that’s padlocked, or across the street near the food vendor. While the choice is limited, is it prime. BEA has no equal. Porn Star Experience. Unconscious. If I were you I would seek her out. 800pBF and 500tip is THE bargain of Angeles. Known her three years now and somehow, even with the hard miles, she retains her beauty. Sweet kid, trained in the nasty tongue. One-woman porn movie, she plays it right to the camera (not that I would ever record my fucking sessions, Homeland Security!) Most women are so scared of my Hitachi vibrator, they scream when I take it out. Bea DEMANDS it. First the cock though. We go around the horn for 30 minutes or so, then I give you vibrator, baby. Watch in awe as she masturbates to not one but two more orgasms.

The shocker here is MADEL. She sits there on her plastic stool, a less-than-nothing 80 pounds, 4-10. She’s no beauty, but if you like petite and submissive, seek her out. She’s a to-the-max uber-spinner performer. Shower with her, kisses in water, then push on her shoulders and she goes down. At 4 foot 10, she goes down…

WOW BAR…JOSEPHINE AND JOANNE

Not as big a supporter of this bar as some on CH. The amazing thing about Raymond Street is the turnaround. Sure, you’ll still find Gracie hanging around nights—who once was so sexy—and now is something less than that. But there is constant turnaround. If you’re like me and only travel once a year you’ll find a couple of the old faithful who lasted the year, but everyone else is new.

Girls at the Wow Bar seem to be guaranteed a gig for life. I’ve known TRIXIE five years. JOANNE, 4. JOSEPHINE, 2. Joanne will run with whatever fantasy you want, and deliver the goods. But these are bodies with hard miles on them. Still, based on performance, a definite recommend. No photos attached per request.

THE BITCH SQUAD: MARLA, RHEA, ABBY

One year ago MARLA was the sweetest chickadee you ever did she. She was a doorgirl at Valhalla and was one dude removed from being a cherry girl. I was her first barfine and first foreigner. 19 years of pure sweetness. We had multiple dates which were ridiculously great. Flash forward 1 year: I drop my card off with her sister at the door of Valhalla, would love to see her again. She no longer worked the door but her sis would try to put us in touch. A day later, the Pacific Breeze Booty Call phone rings: “Marla is here for you.” “MARLA IS HERE FOR ME?! YEEEEES! I mean…yes, inform her she can come up.” And in she comes, accompanied by a friend, all giggly and whatnot. She was a solid 7 last year and in those tight shorts and heels has bettered that, an 8 in a city where 8’s are rare. Oh oh oh oh OH! Alas, her welcome isn’t for a conquering hero. She turns her face on my kiss like it’s no big deal to see me again. Well, not like. For her, it isn’t a big deal. When she tells me she’s got a party to go to but will be back in two hours, I believe her. Three weeks later, I was still waiting on her to reappear. Dirty pool, baby. You just made the Bitch Squad.

Saw the famous RHEA on the street. She recognized me—sort of. The weird hello of distant acquaintances. Two years ago I met her on the street days before she was scheduled to start work in her first club. Three great sessions for 1.5 each. One year later, last trip, she was a Daddy’s Girl getting 4K per Korean (because who THE FUCK else would pay that for a piece?) God knows where you go from there. Have a nice life, baby. I’ll always cherish our time together. Bitch Squad—cleanup hitter.

It’s a rarity when a Raymond Street girl makes the Bitch Squad but I gotta put ABBY as the leadoff hitter. A year ago she was no bargain, even as the new girl on the block. She was working—I believe—bar #3 when she arrived on the scene to wow the dozens of low-budget tools like me. Great face and body, 3k green-badge girl looks working for 800p per. What was she doing in some shithole shack on Raymond? No knowing, but I did avail myself of the incongruity several times. It bugged me that she was flighty and KNEW SHE WAS HOT, but I dismissed it, as a 55 year-old California golden seal with his fine layer of blubber about to fuck a perfect 20 year-old for $35 skins might. This year she was on the list of follow-ups and I was pleased to hear she was still around, more of a “freelancer” these days. Her bar was raided and shut so she works out front of Raymond Street 4. When she saw me it was very much a SO-WHAT and when she learned she’d have to wait until after Bea to fuck me, she dissed me and split. Every girl down there knows Abby for the stuck-up bitch she is, nose in the air. Baby, here’s a reality check: Chicks would work in front of padlocked blow job bars, ON THE STREET, shouldn’t wave their noses at anyone.

SHIPWRECKED WITH DADDY ALLEN

This fucking guy. Honestly, the only reason I put up with him is because he honestly believes I’m some sort of international fashion photographer. For four years now—since his days at DIRTY DUCK—he’s been sending me his best girls to shoot pictorials with my shitty commercial-grade $150 buck Cannons or Nikons. He likes me to shoot his photograph too. He has the appetite of a Cookie Monster, a Pinoy Big Gay Al, and is nothing if not a pure scam artist. I’m from Chicago where we respect a good con man. Allen would do well in the land of WHERE’S MINE. He’s found these days at Shipwrecked and set up a fucking roadblock on me before I can take the left for Pacific Breeze (in front of Kokomos). He wants his 200-300 pesos not just for putting me onto his best girls, but for any time he catches me passing! I think I laughingly gave it to him once and—like the beggar kids you once give a 20p to and can’t get rid of—he now approaches every time I pass looking to put his hand in my pocket.

I could blow him off completely but where’s the fun in that? Not to mention, he put me onto two great girls this trip. ARLENE, doorgirl with white skin and natural auburn-coloring. A monster in bed. Also MELODY, a short powerful blonde who reminds me of the Old School Dollhouse Coyote dancers I used to fuck when they were 1.5K. Both of them, recommended.

HOLDING TO $250 A DAY

It didn’t used to be hard to hold to $250 a day, but it was this trip. Room: Pacific Breeze = $42 PD with the one month discount. Food: Breakfast at Kokomos with tip = $12. Dinner at Kokomos or at Pacific Breeze= $13. Don’t drink, don’t smoke. Mall Miscellanea: I fill my fridge with sodas, juice, water, fruit and desserts/chocolate for the girls. I print up photos and give them to the girls regularly. 5X7’s are only .25 cents each but it adds up. So, let’s say $20 for food, $10 for photos, drugs, whathaveyou = $30. First girl at 12 noon: Here’s where I trip up: Raymond Street, even diminished, makes it tough to leave with just one girl. At 800 (Wow bar now 1000) plus 500 tip = $35 per X 2= $70 bucks. This get me to about 3pm. If I do two Raymond Street girls then the Fields sneak out—if she actually shows up—will be 1500. Being a complete addict I admit that after even two Raymond street girls leave at 3 I’ve picked up the Booty Call phone at 3:30 to discover a Fields girl who actually showed before work. So hard to turn them away. Take a siesta, then dinner, shower and we’re ready for the 8pm feeding. 1st of the night. The choice? Fields barfine or freelancer. Freelancer usually being plural, because the Alley Cats run in packs. Two for the price of one Fields barfine is usually the way I go, so 1000-1500 per X2 ($70) gets me to 11pm. Usually I’m destroyed by here being well fucked 3 or even 4 times that day, but shit…it’s only 11. If I peek out my door I’m going to get into trouble so settle down at the laptop watching old Star Treks and eating baked goods from the Mall, wind the day down and not destroy the budget yet again. Alas, a Jones being a Jones, I often head out on Fields yet again. So, adding up: Day: Two Raymond girls (or 1 plus 1 Fields sneak out)= $70. Night: 1 Fields barfine= $70 or 2 Freelancer alley cats = $70. Chicks= $150 a day. Hotel= $42. Food = $25. Miscellanea= $25-$30 per day = $247. See what I mean? Barely holding to $250 per.

FREELANCERS: THE ALLEY CATS

I was saddened to hear that LUZ was in jail due some drug shenanigans. The mythos of these girls being underage is a joke, at least from my experience. From what I’ve been directly told, the cops have been after freelancers, making it harder to do business on the street. Fortunately I knew PRINCESS, LYKA and GIRLIE from last year, who then introduced me to MEA. These are my nighttime equivalents to the Raymond Street girls because they deliver—flat out. As random and unpredictable as Fields Girls performances are, that’s how solid and predictable are the Freelancer sessions.

FIELDS CHICKS: WHEN CUTE ISN’T ENOUGH

I try not to pay $80 bucks for a “cute” lay. 7’s abound in the clubs. 8’s are rare. 9’s, non-existent. You will find 10 hotter chicks in a Pattaya club like Baccara than you will on the whole of Fields. And without the time to gather numbers, and text, and text, and hope they show up, without the time or PATIENCE for that, it comes down to… do you pay the godamn barfine or not? With prices for the top clubs at 2500 to start = $60, plus 500 tip = $12 plus 200 for drinks= $5 we’re looking at close to $80 bucks for a barfine. Short time. LT barfines are history. They boom-boom once, maybe twice, and want out the door. Performance on Fields is a craps shoot. This trip I had some great ones, but I also had some duds. And at $80 per, that blows.

NO MISS PINATUBU THIS YEAR: CHE-ANN

Kudos to the PIATNIGHT guy who said that some of the Luxor babes landed at Golden Pharaoh. That brought me into the joint, looking for Grace, my Miss Pinatubu Finalist from last year. Not 15 seconds inside, I was bushwhacked by CHE-ANN, also blonde, also a spinner, energy energy energy. Turns out Grace is now pregnant and sponsored by some very lucky gringo. There’d be no Miss Pinatubu for me this trip. But Che-Ann was around and she wasn’t chopped liver. She also loved having pics taken of her (hey, I like taking them), was born in April (hey, so was I!) and is a killer in the sack. Che-Ann won the GP dance-off the night before and showed me video of doing a full split on stage (thinking immediately of position implications). Imagine her smooth, porpoise-like body in bad Cinemax movie light, talking at 22 like her best days are behind her. Neurosis, always a turn on for Paulyvegas, especially from a girl who can stand against a wall and lift her other leg over her head. Now THAT’S entertainment! Had two very nice two sessions before she left town to go study in Manila. She wants out of the biz. Good luck, baby.

SEA STAR…REGIS AND ROSE

Yeah, it was ROSE, the killer blonde doorgirl, who brought me into Sea Star in the first place (more on her in a moment) but once inside I found REGIS, killer feline face and legs, walking right up to me. Oh yes, let’s have a drink. The accumulation of phone numbers is of course preferable to outright paying a barfine but I have neither the time nor the inclination to buy a cellphone and join the rest of the world in texting. Never sent one. Don’t drive either, or drink. Yeah, there are a few of us out there. My system consists of giving them a Pacific Breeze card with my name and room number on it, making a “date” for the following day, and seeing if they show up. This is strictly a 50-50 proposition—meaning a good 50% of the time, they don’t show. Don’t know what it indicates, but this trip my batting average was better than that, and REGIS was one of the Fields girls who showed. She loves sex and will ride you into the ground, gentlemen.
Now, about ROSE. She’s got a look nobody on the block has. Old School hardbody Dollhouse spinner body type. Squat and powerful. Legs like an Olympic gymnast. Rock! I had heard through the grapevine she had lost a lot of weight lately and I couldn’t help but lust after her every time I passed Sea Star. Bought her a drink one time and she didn’t seem interested so I passed. Followed up a second night and she was more open to it, so pulled the trigger on—yes—the famous 3,000 peso barfine. Plus drinks and 500p tip, you’ve got your $100 dollar lay. All the guys who brag about never paying a barfine, some of us don’t have the time or patience to work phone numbers and text. We want to point, click, and score. I spend the full year saving for this trip and just want it to happen. And it did. Fucking amazing. Guys, Sea Star, blonde doorgirl Rose…you can thank me later.

BARFINING: THE MAGIC WORDS

I’m deluged with women so it doesn’t really matter, but it’s a curiosity. The era of the raid has made the word “barfine” a dirty word. Sure, there are joints you can just ask and get a straight answer. But there are many bars you have to be more artful in how you ask. I asked on another board and was told to ask the girl directly, something like “do you go out?” I tried that approach, and got nervous laughter back. Maybe it’s because I’m hit and run. I don’t drink and don’t have time for games. If I’m interested in you I want to know if you’re coming with me and I want to know now. I’ve come to the conclusion that you must have patience to barfine on Fields. Not my strength. Point and click works on Raymond, it works in Pattaya, but not so well in some Fields joints. Guess I’ll continue to rely on old favs (via Facebook) and the BJ bar girls until someone can give me the code words that will get me an answer to the politically charged question: WHAT’S THE BARFINE?

THE ERA OF THE RAID

Interesting to hear about this from first hand sources. I know two girls who were detained. They had surprisingly similar stories. Both were fortunate to have relatives present up-to-date ID and be cleared of jail within 72 hours. What was interesting was hearing about the mandated “counseling” session they were both given. It sounds like this: “Listen -----, we understand why you are prostituting yourself. You have to support your family. We understand. But you’re better than this. You don’t need to do this. There are alternatives. There are so many other things you can do to make money. We are here to help anytime you need us.” When asked about the alternatives, the counselors are less specific. They point to websites, to self-help resources. What they never point to is a job. To viable economic alternatives. The girls leave understanding allright--This is a shakedown and not about them at all. Not about CNN reports on human trafficking, or the impressions of the world at large that they are being exploited.
It’s a shakedown. Period.

PORN MOVIE 1: THE HIGH-SOCIETY DATE

Never stepped into High Society before. Semi-crackdown on my street urchins has led me to consider new options. Like Bukowski, I never learned to dance. Clubland? Paulyvegas? Please…I’m gonna strut my 235 pounds on the dance floor to impress some bimbo? This ain’t about having “game” or not. It’s about me being in a town with thousands of chicks for whom I don’t have to strut and prance.

Still, being a lover of absolute chaos and impromptu madness, I pay my 200 fish and head in through the door of High Society. Heard so much about this place on the various boards, yet looks pretty basic, the usual pink and red technetronics, the electronica, the human intermingling manifestation. I figured I’d give it a once or twice around and get out of there. Chicks? Yeah, there were four of five “spotlight” dancers above everyone else (near the DJ area?). I’d happily bone any of them but they don’t look like they want to give up the spotlight any time soon, and certainly not for aforementioned anything-but-hip Paulyvegas. Tons of dudes, many with chicks already. Fuck it, I’m outta here. Heading out the door when my eye catches sight of a spinner doing a drunken limbo, bending lower, and lower still. Pretty amazing. She caught me catching her act and waved me over. She and her chunky friend were in from Manila, just in town to party and wanted me to know they were both H O R N Y. Really? “Well, that’s cool, but I was just heading out—““Can we come with you?” The Paulyvegas pick up line is usually: “Hi how are ya ya look great how much let’s go.” Now I’m walking Fields with two Manila non (semi?) pros who are sooooooo horny. They are shitfaced drunk as we make it back to my place. Order drinks and they fall out playing with my humping hound Humphrey, my Willie The Pee Pee Boy and silly string. Drunken silly string fight-- 1-2-3! Their story comes into focus. April, the spinner I’m gonna fuck, is straight. Her chunky friend is Bi, and will be watching us and using one of my four industrial-sized vibrators. No idea how this is gonna play out but they’re showering now and I’m dimming lights, powering up the Magic Wand, and clearing pillows. Out they come, and the porn movie begins. April hadn’t been fucked by her boyfriend in months (you know—the guy who pays her 8000p every month to be faithful, who actually called when I was walking her home) so she was ready to burst. Her friend had no innocence at all, opening her legs and vibrating herself into six orgasms in little over an hour. Catching my eye, watching me fuck April and losing it as April was losing it, me doing my Christian Bale AMERICAN PYSCHO doggie biceps pump homage (six pack is there, just under the blubber). Pushing April’s head almost into her friend’s pussy, seeing if she’d take the bait, pumping her, pumping her.

I’ve seen April two times since. Second time she brought another friend who looked at Facebook for an hour while we fucked. Strange. Her boyfriend calls her five times a day (plus Skyping) she tells me. She’s sponsored, but horny. According to April, what her boyfriend doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Jesus, hope he’s not reading this now. My first High Society visit—A+!

PORN MOVIE 2: THE ALLEY CATS

11 o’clock AM. Booty Call telephone rings. The operators of the Pacific Breeze switchboard hate me for sure. Lacking a cellphone, I’ve made them my personal telephone operators and screeners. “Paul, you have two girls here—Girlie and Lyka.” These are my night time alley cats. I thought they knew better than to try to get in here before 12 noon, when Paulyvegas traditionally begins to feed for the day. Still, I’ve blown them off lately. “OK, let them in.” In they come, hungry alley cats. “Cold!” Ah, yeah, that air-conditioner doesn’t get shut off, EVER. They jump under the covers and want room service and want to fuck me and want…. Hold on, girls, my dance card is full until 9. They make sad faces and grab for dick. No no! That won’t work. Come back at 9, we make date then. They hesitate and make frowny faces, as 20-year old street urchins are want to do. I give them each a couple hundred pesos and promise, 9pm, it’s a date.

So 8:45pm comes and they’re already out there, waiting for me. I wave them in. They jump into bed and want room service and want to fuck and want to watch a movie. Well, I just happen to have about 200 of them on this external hard drive. “External…?” “It’s a….never mind…snakes or sharks?” “Sorry?” “Horror/action movie, snakes (Snakes On A Plane) or sharks (Deep Blue Sea). “Sharks!” They order room service, turn off the lights, jump into bed and start watching genetically-mutated sharks eat people, utterly enthralled. See, I have no need to discuss the importance of Herman Melville with a burlap-sack bodied woman of my age range back in the U.S. of A. What I want is a 20 year old in my bed squealing at people-eating whilst she eats a greasy pork chop. I have no idea how this is gonna work out but they—like all of them—are madly texting the whole time and inform me they have a friend who wants to come over. “I don’t know, girls, two of you is enough. I’d need to see her and you obvious can’t….” Boom—they show me her picture. Cute. “Oooooooook, tell her she can come.” 20 minutes later I leave the alley cats in bed and let in MAE, their friend. Frankly, she’s hotter than either of the alley cats. Oh yes, do come up.

Now four of us are in the bed watching Samuel Jackson give his famous rah-rah speech about survival, only to be shark-swallowed alive mid-sentence. Cue alley cats, squealing. Movie ends, boom-boom time. So how the fuck are we doing this girls? Let’s start with price. I’ve been paying 1500. They say it’s ok, only 1000 this time for each of the three. Done deal. So…how? They suggest all at once. No way, sez I. Girls together—inhibitions come out. And they never lick each other’s pussies, not in my experience. We go 1-2-3, first one alone, then change, then change to #3. 30 minutes each. Girlie points out that’s 90 straight minutes of fucking. Ok, 20 minutes each. They do rock, paper, scissors for order, which turns out to be Lyka—Girlie—Mea. And the porn movie starts… Lyka, bruised legs but lean and mean, trained in the foul tongue, whispering all the right things, just stroking. 20 minutes go by and Girlie and Mea come out of the bathroom, time’s up (gave them my wrist watch). Mea in just a towel and has the heels on I provided (brought 4 pairs, always sizes 5 and 6, guys). She struts in front of the mirror and I’m behind her. Whoa…sexy. Girlie is pissed off when I tell her she’s gonna be #3. Get back in the bathroom. “But I’m #2!” “Girlie, get back in the bathroom,” sez I, sternly, fondling the supreme breasts of a woman I didn’t know an hour ago. Girlie pouts and leaves with Lyka and it commences with Mea. W H O A. Who taught you those nasty tricks, baby? We’re 40 minutes into the fucking marathon and Girlie storms out of the bathroom. Her turn to be fucked, damnit! The others pile back into the bathroom and Lyka brings the laptop in with them to watch some SNAKES ON A PLANE or MARS ATTACKS. Girlie is in good form tonight, horny and Pauly V is doing what he can to satisfy. This is what dudes who don’t monger don’t get. Yes, they’re doing it for money. But not JUST for money. You have to bring you’re A-game because these girls want to get FUCKED too. It is not mutually exclusive—to need money AND to enjoy sex with a foreigner. One hour later, the porno movie ends. Who does these things? No one would believe me if I told them, but it’s just another night in Angeles City.

KOREANS

So odd, outside of this trip I honestly never think about them. Out of sight, out of mind. But they were OMNIPRESENT this trip. And as many of them as there were in AC, multiply that for Pattaya. Sit in Club Baccara at 9pm and tell me what you see: WAVES of them. Emptying the bar of pussy. Joylessly. Their faces stone. Insular, all to themselves. The girls universally dislike them (I mean I’ve NEVER talked with a girl who is enthusiastic about being with one.) Which doesn’t mean they don’t have a grand time at the club downing endless tequila shots paid for by the Masters of the economic universe (and how the fuck did that happen? Oh yeah—Samsung) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_companies_of_South_Korea.

I saw a true rarity in an Angeles bar this trip. A Korean guy up on stage doing Psy, dancing Gangnam style, breaking up the girls and everyone in the bar. Never seen it happen before, a Korean as life of the party. I’ve got nothing against them but c’mon, leave some pussy for the next guy. Your be-spectacled round faces, your packs of 10, your smoking when I’m eating my eggs and giving a fuck about anything yourself. You know what…I change my mind. I do have something against Koreans. Fuck ‘em.

MISCELLANEA

• Been working on LISA, gorgeous cherry girl doorgirl at SHOWTIME. Would barfine her just for kisses and to take photos. She turned me away twice but I’ll go back once more to see if 3rd time’s the charm. Sooooooo fucking cute. Some tool I don’t know will have the joy of being her first barfine, and some truly lucky guy, her first fuck. Wish it was me.
• Three weeks in Angeles, I was out on the Perimeter ONCE. Saw some cuties at Mischief, Candy Bar, and Det 5.
• Tried the day shift at Dollhouse. Was just about the only customer in the place at 4pm. Five dancers came off stage and surrounded me, along with the super-cute “waitress-in-training” LUCKY (yes, her real name). All green-badgers though, 3k barfine. “I don’t suppose you see customers outside of this place.” Oh no, never, said she. Sure doll, if I had more time to work you for a phone number I’d play this game but for now, here’s a hundred pesos for each of you (YAY!) Now say these exact words: “Oh Pauly, you fuck us better than James Bond.”
• Kokomos rail, 9am: Time out the procession of sandal-wearing Pinoys tramping, stumbling, shit-heeling their way past me during breakfast. Selling their bootleg DVD’s in the age of Pirate Bay freebees—don’t they understand you can’t sell a product I can get for free? More come---Viagra/Cialis (good price, boss) Tasers, belts, fake Rolexs, sunglasses…they sell products nobody fucking wants. Been coming here four years, has anyone EVER seen a gringo buy a belt, let alone a Taser? And the ants circling my French Toast breakfast don’t care.
• These smoking motherfuckers. Yeah, I know it’s legal in this country, but I DON’T LIKE IT when I’m about to eat and you light up. I don’t want to fucking breath your fucking smoke—and that is MY right. So when I get up and am forced to move my seat because of you, don’t say Jack Shit to me as I curse you beneath my breath. Because I’ll happily take it the next level. Now enjoy your cancer stick, motherfucker.

THE HUMAN ELEMENT: ARLENE

Let me tell you what happened this trip so you can understand the human drama.

Saw Arlene, an old flame from two years ago. She looked like shit. Brought her home to find out that her son had died of dengue fever two months ago. She couldn't afford treatment and the kid was left by the hospital to, essentially, die.
But that wasn't why she was broken up. Her father was dying, tonight. Long illness, he wasn’t going to pull out of it.

Flash forward: Morning. She left a note for me at the front desk of Pacific Breeze, on a tiny slip of paper: “Hi, I wash here to ask you some help. My dad died this morning. If OKey for you borrow me 3000 pls I beg you. This is Arlene.”

The funeral was in Samar, a 24 hour trip by bus and ferry. This girl not only had dollar zero, she had less than that. She was living in the park, taking .50 cent showers. There are simply no jobs here, and when there are no customers, they starve. She had to get home to the funeral. I could tell in her eyes this wasn't a drug story (no bola-bola). Long story short, I gave her the $75 bucks. This was not a big fucking deal. I spent the same on three alley cats the night before.

Flash forward: Two days later: Waddling out toward my French Toast breakfast, who do I see but…Arlene. Huh? What are you doing here? She was crouched on the street, waiting for me for God knows how many hours. This is what down and out looks like. This is what suicidal looks like. We go to Kokomos. She told me she shipped the money home, something about not being able to afford the promotional fare---I didn’t understand. Bottom line, she couldn't go to the funeral of her father because she had to PAY for the funeral with the money I gave her. Her mother/family was penniless. She had a choice--go home but no funeral or not go home and have a funeral.

WTF..............................

I bought her breakfast ($10 bucks), bought her a new outfit ($10 bucks), gave her a shower and yes, broke down to give her the second $75 bucks to GET HER HOME TO HER FATHER'S FUNERAL. Maybe I was a sap here, who can say.

I will likely never see her again.

PATTAYA

THE BLOODLESS COUP

Well sure, I was worried. A MILITARY COUP! Three weeks before I was scheduled to touch down in Pattaya? I saw the reports on CNN, checked in on the monger boards for whatever information I could find. Curfew imposed? Hmmm…maybe I should take the year off. Watching with interest from Angeles, having a hotel reservation but not booking the flight when they lifted the ban, and the few mongers who bothered to report FACTS and help everyone else, saying conditions were just fine. Well, ok, hit ACTION TRAVEL, book the Tiger Air flight. $260+ with a 50 pound bag allowance each way. I’ll need every pound of that with all the gadgets (from big star sunglasses to party poppers and silly string) to 10 or 12 outfits, two pairs of heels, my panoramic Chicago poster (“I from Chicago.” “Chi-ca-go?” “That’s right baby…see all the water. That’s a lake. Can you say lake?”), Humphrey the Humping Hound (“he horny!”) and stuffed snake. (“he big” “yeah, big baby, like my fucking cock.”) All of them just ice-breakers. Packed onto a totally civilized Tiger Air flight (no one in my row, nor in the last 10 aisles, no turbulence, and flight arrived 20 minutes EARLY. Way to go, Tiger Air!)

Get out and take my first glimpse of the Coup. Hmmm…where are the soldiers? None to be seen. Go with Mr. Toom, 1200Baht plus 300tip to Pattaya.
Two hours later, pulling into Pattaya. No tanks, no troops. Only crushing humidity, just like last time. I can only surmise that because they have coups so often in Thailand, they do them extremely well. For a tourist like me, not much impact. There are only scattered reports: Like the former government not paying rice farmers for 6 months and the farmers going on strike. New military rulers paid off the rice farmers in 3 days. Oh yes, very smart indeed. The Romans knew what the mob required: BREAD AND CIRCUSES. Get them fed, then the circuses… World Cup broadcasts locked up by previous government’s contracts. “Renegotiate” with broadcasters to allow the game to be broadcast on free TV. Don’t fuck with the tourist zones. Keep them wide open. Take over the TV airwaves and pump up propaganda commercials. Soldiers with children, helping them. Soldiers with the poor, helping them. Soldiers defending the country from all intruders, bravely. The message clear (subtitled in English—and I’m quoting now from one of the commercials): “WE WILL BE HONEST, PLEASE TRUST AND BELIEVE IN US, GOODNESS WILL RETURN TO THE NATION SOON, LET US RETURN HAPPINESS BACK TO YOU, THE PEOPLE, OUR SOLDIERS WILL NEVER GIVE UP THIS IS OUR PROMISE, PLEASE WAIT WE WILL GET THROUGH THIS CONFLICT, WE WILL KEEP OUR PROMISE, JUST GIVE US TIME.”

A bloodless coup. Well, fuck a duck.

PATTAYA BAY RESORT

I’m Mr. Consistency so yeah, I’m staying at PBR again for the third straight year. They give me a one-week discount (one day free) and usually accommodate my needs. That means four pillows and NEVER take that key out of the power slot. Because that would mean stopping the air-conditioning, and that’s not happening for the next week. When the front counter girl challenges me on this I tell her it was allowed last year and she should check the memo. Later, her issues are dropped. I get free breakfasts, swim in their 8th floor pool, and the central location that can’t be beat, only a few blocks from Walking Street and Soi Buakhao, a short Baht bus (pay 10b) from Soi 6, 7, and 8. The Mall where I pick up food and drink supplies and have breakfast, steps away. Pattaya Bay Resort—recommended.

NOT THE NATURE TOURIST THIS YEAR

Yep, took the year off from mainstream tourist activities. That means no Sanctuary Of Truth, no Big Buddha, no Tiger Zoo or Elephant riding or 3-island fishing, snorkeling and sunning tour. I saved the Go Kart riding for my last day but the way it’s raining as I write this---SHEETS—looks like I’ll be missing that too. I’ve done all these each year I’ve come. I should take more time and explore THE REST of Thailand but alas, with the limited resources of an Adjunct College Professor, it would mean a zero-sum game, not adding time but pulling it from my “hometown” of Angeles and I’m just not doing that. I need at least three weeks in Angeles, no matter how many of you just laughed reading that.

BURNED AT JOMTIEN BEACH

I did get out to Jomtien a couple times this trip, and paid a price. Jesus, two hours unprotected in the sun seemed like no big deal. Come home, I’m a rock lobster. That’s cool, other than possible skin cancer I look healthier. Folks back in Chicago will say—hey, you got some sun! Jomtien reminds me of the beach at Atlantic City. Not great, but it’ll do in a pinch. I only came across about five plastic bags and ketchup containers in my 30 minutes swimming so it beats Subic, right? Alas, I miss Manuel Antonio in Costa Rica. Any way we can bring the nature of Costa Rica to Pattaya, or bring Walking Street over there? Tattoo artist came up to me and despite my protestations, starting drawing a huge scorpion on my right shoulder in black ink. He was good. I offered him 100 and he wanted 300. We “settled” on 200. I jumped in the ocean to wash it off the minute he left the scene.

A FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS

• I love riding on a motorbike behind the barfined Walking Street girl, heading back to my place, her perfumed hair blowing in my face. If she’s special, she’ll turn sometime during that trip and kiss me. The tell.
• I love hanging off the back of the Baht bus, even if it’s empty. I stand off the step up platform, riding along, what wind there is in my hair, heading down to Soi 6 or 7 to meet up with a female whom I know not, on Biblical terms, for an hour. To quote the Stranglers: “nice and sleazy, does it every time.”
• I love—and I mean FUCKING love—the 15th floor buffet at the Hilton Hotel. Sure, it’s $40 with tip, but I’m paying $30 at Nam Sing or $25 for a greasy burger and onion rings at the English pub, $25 for Indian food near Walking Street. NO COMPARISON, best meal in town, either for lunch or dinner. Leave two hours before your nocturnal exploits. If you fuck the dessert bar, you’ll need recuperation time. Will give a blow-by-blow of this place in a moment.
• I love the Go Karts. There are several tracks. Why doesn’t Angeles have one of these? For that matter, why doesn’t Angeles have a bowling alley? Or a pool hall? Or theater? O any fucking thing for entertainment other than barhopping at strip clubs?
• I love the Sanctuary Of Truth. It’s cool and you should check it out. Puts my head in that spiritual place, finds me the quietude to get through a routine encounter with a Soi 6 Bitch.
• I love the Turkish Ice-cream guys on Walking Street. Showmen to the max. Where did they come from, don’t remember them last year.
• I love Walking Street itself. One of the eight wonders of the Mongering World. Trippy in any circumstance, try seeing it for the first time sleep-deprived at 10pm at night---k a l e I d e s c o p I c.
• I love the chicken-on-a-spit I get at the local food vendors for $2 bucks.
• Hell, I love all the food vendors. That squid and other seafood on a stick? Grilled in front of your eyes. NO COMPARISON, the food here kicks Angeles City’s ass.
• I love seeing the occasional white woman, especially if they’re Russian and dolled up, looking like Anna Kournikova, heading toward Marine Disco.
• I love that I don’t need code words here. HOW MUCH IS THE BARFINE? I can scream it and get a straight answer.
• I love the Thai people, they are wonderful, respectful. Does my heart good to be around them. Love that bowing thing they do.
• Love that the world is your oyster for $300 a day here. And that you can also live for $1100 a month on a fixed income like my friend Gary.

GARY, AKA MY FUTURE

Friend of a friend three years ago. An introduction made, meet the dude and he’s sharp. REALLY sharp. Not a scam artist. More like an ESCAPE artist. More like what I’d love my own future to be. Non-materialist. Just taking each day as it comes, or, as Henry Miller taught, “the optimum state of man is to do nothing”. By nothing, of course, Miller meant nothing traditionally judged by the money-making, money-obsessed, money-crushed Powers That Be as essential. It means opting out. It means inventing your reality before the world invents it for you. Because, as hard knocks teach, the world is cold, man. You better have something to sell, or something angled, because you do not want to be left at the mercy of the world. Thus, I admire Gary in how he’s managed to milk his savings for five years now, living here in absolute stress-free, non-goal agenda-obsessed being. He will claim early unemployment next March and live on just about the same amount he does now, $1100 and change. He travels through all of Asia, has his own place and motorbike, takes multiple “happy ending” massages each week, even manages a few Beach Road chicks if the money stretches.

This is my future.

BITCHES…BEACH ROAD

I don’t come to Pattaya for 5’s. I’m the one-week millionaire. I spend a full year for this one week (and three in AC). Do you really think I’m gonna slum down on Beach Road with 3’s, 4’s and 5’s? I can find these rice bellies and acned faces out on the Perimeter in Angeles. Yes, I know you can find the occasional gem. I saw a cutie and bite once this trip. She was a disaster. An ORDER GIVER. So fucking obsessed by putting that rubber over every inch of my dick, taking three minutes to do so, looking up to me, ready! Ready? Stupid bitch—my dick just deflated in the romance of the moment. I hate rubbers, and I pretty much hate you. Hit the road. Ciao to the pickpocketing ladyboys, the chubsters, druggies, and beat-to-shit Russians along this endless stretch.

BEER BARS
Don’t want to sound like an A-hole (too late!) but I’m not here for these girls either. Perimeter looks for a 25% price increase.

Barfined exactly NONE of these. Sure, in previous years I’ve found gems. Not this year. While I love the Toulouse-Lautrec pink light of these places, the range is 4-6 here. Pasadena.

SOI 7
Beer bars and more beer bars. First night sleep-deprvied, just did intel and saw a few 7’s. But intel is pointless when the next night, and next 6 nights, you don’t ever see the girl you saw the first night. 8pm seems ideal for here but maybe I needed to come later (earlier?) Turning the corner into…

SOI 8
Another write off. There’s one bar about a hundred yards up that has a couple hotties. I signaled to a dancer to have a drink with me. She was unimpressed. Came down and went into the back, never to return. Honey, in a city full of hos, Paulyvegas doesn’t need to take your shit. Have a nice life, Miss 7. Next!

SOI 6
Being a Raymond Street guy through and through, you’d think this would be my spiritual center. But no… must be 40 bars on this stretch. Here 7 days, I barfined from here twice. Both were hot and great, pictured in this report. It’s just…you’d think with this much flesh assembled, the chicks would look…I don’t know…sweeter? Raymond Street chicks have a sweetness. These here are truck stop hos, HEAVY MILES. Love the outfits of some, the small tight shorts, some of them in full uniform. It’s a spectacle you have to see. Fucking love the bar names, best ever. But I would never travel to Pattaya just for these. Not to mention at 1300 baht (1000b for lady, 300b for barfine, or 500, if you take them back to your hotel like I do) it means $45 per, or a 20% price increase over Raymond Street. They are the first action of the day, the appetizer before the night’s chaos on Walking Street. So let’s get to that…

SOI BUAKHAO
Love this place. Had luck here every trip. Best joint is THE OFFICE. Almost teared-up when I saw that SEXY SUBMARINE was closed! Barfined twice out of The Office. First girl left her watch. I returned it the next night and was a hero, many kisses from her, and surprise from the staff for something that was no big deal. Prices are Walking Street equivalent, but I sense a BIT more leeway. You can actually negotiate (or try to) down here. Short time only: 700-1000b barfine, 2000 for lady. That’s it, that’s the asking price. And here come the dudes telling me THEY negotiate just fine and DON’T pay this. Well, bully for you! It was MY experience that this was industry standard. Plenty of hotties, so get your ass down here.

WALKING STREET
The reason I come 27 hours to this place is Walking Street. Some say you can find Walking Street quality chicks on Beach Road or in the Beer bars. My experience says that’s BS, but who am I but the typical one-week millionaire who is going to PAY UP and take that Goddess home. Because $30 bucks when I get home will mean jack shit to me. It’s the EXPERIENCE, that thing that will never come again. I don’t need the $30 in the bank. I want it to be Jordan over Ehlo, leaving it all on the court, and be with that Goddess, if only for seventy-eight minutes.
These days, of course, in the top joints like BACCARA, you’re going to have a tough time finding that Goddess for even $100. They’re starting negotiations at 3000 for lady and when you laugh and say 2000 she writes out 2500 and you know she’s not coming off it, not to mention the 1500 barfine because it’s 9pm and you know if you leave it ‘til 11 she’ll be long since locked up by one of the KOREAN HORDE who systematically wipe out the top pussy from bar after bar.

Walking Street early is 9pm and I’d advise getting there even a bit sooner if you want to see the full menu. I grabbed one from the first joint up the street, COYOTE bar. Grabbed three, by far the most, from joint next to it (name escapes me) including two long blondes (pictured). PEPPERMINT is loaded (try #53 and #26), BACCARA has a half dozen 9’s(check out #’s 91, 99, 8 and 418), and a last great place, CRAZY HOUSE, which has at least four longlean blondes—chicks you never see in Angeles, AIRPLANE is loaded with hustlers and a couple 8’s. BABY DOLLS is crazy again, lots of squat girls with killer attitudes. Too many bars to mention…

I’ve got my bit down. The curtain opens and the waitress is on you in three seconds flat, pointing you to a seat. I scan the lineup in five seconds—FUCK THE WAITRESS. She’s getting pissed off because I don’t sit where she wants me to? Too bad. I walk along one side of the lineup and in 30 seconds make a judgment—is there a lady worth a possible drink and interview? If not I’ll just stroll around the other side of the bar and stroll out. If I need more time I’ll ask in blatant English what the barfine is. This throws her off long enough for me to scan the lineup and make a decision. If there’s a possible I’ll order a draft beef. I don’t freakin’ drink beer but they’re 69b vs the 105 for my club soda. And it’s never 105 because when they give back the change they are IN YOUR FACE for a tip. 69b, you can give over 11b tip and leave with minimum damage.
On the mating process, I don’t fuck around. I really need to practice more patience but time and tide wait for no man. Try to make eye contact, does she smile at me? Good sign. Check the body again, try to see through the strobe lights and makeup, how’s her face? If she looks past me toward that table with the Korean and five chicks he’s buying drinks for, she’s a write off and I’m on to the next. If there’s a connection, invite her down for a drink.

THE INTERVIEW

Been mongering, somehow, since ’89, and learned a life lesson this trip. No matter how golden it appears, stick to the interview. Example: BACCARA, gorgeous darkhair, took about two minutes to ID, for her to smile at me, and for her to make her way to the end of the runway and down to me. Jesus Christ, so beautiful. She’s got to go work a Korean guy but promises to be back to me in 15 minutes and then I’ll be her first man of the night. Well, what can I say to that—I feel so honored? Thank you? No talk of price yet. I wait for three more full songs and see Goddess after Goddess on stage. Bring a pen, take numbers. She returns and we have our drink. It’s golden, she’s unpretentious and smart. Putting cash away for when she can’t do this any more, going to school. Wants to be out of it in a year, no drugs. She goes for the mamasan who arrives and writes down numbers for me: 3000 for lady, 1500 for the barfine. Yeeeeah, I’m not paying 3000 for the lady. 2000. She goes off and comes back with 2500 and 1500. Along with 200 drinks + 100 motorbike = 4300 = I don’t even want to know. Fine, let’s do it. NOTE: INTERVIEW ABANDONED.

Out she comes. I’ve had these Goddesses come out in smoking hot clothes. It’s what you pay for, what you expect, right? The mystery, the illusion. Here, she came out frumpy. In a dress any chick on the street would wear. Ok, whatever. Head to the motorbike where I like to get on the back with her. Nope, this girl is taking command, tells me to take a second motorbike, not crowd on.

TELLS ME. Bad omen.

Back at PBR, Room 500. I’ve got my ice-breakers all lined up. I put the big Hollywood sunglasses on her and go to take a picture….”W A I T!”---she sez, stopping me. “What are you doing?” “Taking your picture.” “No. No no no…I no like.” “You no like? Well I like. I take pictures.” “No no no, no picture.” If she had spoken English, I might have said to her: “Listen Tic, Tac, whatever your name is…I just spent $130 dollars to be with you for 90 minutes (ONLY time of the trip I paid in advance!)…pictures are part of it for me. We don’t take pictures, we no fuck. We go back to bar. I get money back. We go back to bar.” “No no no…” she groaned. Conversation then commenced on how this would play out. This was a deal-breaker. I didn’t want to fuck her anymore. I don’t like the female ORDERING me, telling me how it’s going to be. End of tale: We split the difference. She handed me 1300 back, mamasan said barfine couldn’t be refunded, half of her 2500 I’d get back.

You know what…serves me right. Should have asked her about the photos. Never abandon the interview, no matter how many laughs or dick grabs, no matter how golden it appears.

AMAZING PERFORMANCES

Yearly, I’m amazed at how horny these Pattaya chicks get, how great the performances. No nasty tongue like my Raymond Street girls but you’re pounding on Goddess after Goddess like it’s routine. I wish I could give you names to look for but with names like Ton or Tan or Oh or Pi(pronounced pee, no pie) or Pu I started just thinking about them as The Office Blonde or Cellphone Girl or Buakhao Bimbo. If you want a bar to match with a picture, message me and I’ll try to help out.

OTHER PATTAYA IMPRESSIONS

Pattaya requires a Kerouac to capture it. Alas, all you’ve got is Pauly V. Here are some images…
• The cover bands in beer bars playing Hotel California, Houses Of The Holy or ancient Dire Straits while an old bald 50-something shakes his drunken, cankered asses to the beat.
• The pink beer bar lights that any French impressionist would cream over.
• Shark-eyed, major-miled Beach Road skanks strut and pass while, in the baht bus next to me, two Dutch kids, 8 and 10, stare at them, sex and mainstream tourism meeting head on.
• The 6 and even 7 dancers you shoo away because you’re looking at the 8, hustling you within a minute of your sitting down at a club. And the in-depth discussions of Nietzsche’s Will To Power, aka what passes for conversation: What your name? Where you stay? How long you stay?
• They want $2.50 for an avocado. They want $2.40 for grapefruit slices. They want $2.90 for a chocolate bar. SAME SAME on the one-week guys trying to find the fruit markets—and prices—of the locals.
• The girls at What’s Up bar eating those fucking fried grasshoppers! Waving to me to come and join them, holding up something with legs….FUCK! Get that shit away from me!
• Finally timed-out the Russian World Cup feed on Channel 31. 1pm for yesterday’s games. Sometimes they carry two, which takes you through 6pm. Screw the Sanctuary Of Truth, I’m watching Costa Rica beat Italy 1-0!
• How do you walk the full length of Soi 6, with 40+ bars, and find no one to fuck? Don’t know, but it happened to me 3 of the 5 times I walked that stretch. By contrast, Raymond Street, with 2 ½ bars, I have NEVER come away empty-handed, in 4 years of melon shopping.

FUCKING THE HILTON HOTEL DINNER BUFFET

If only to record it, I have to do this just once. I talked about the greatest meal in town, the lunch or dinner buffet on the 15th floor of the Pattaya Hilton Hotel. It’s $40 bucks and worth every penny. If you’re mongering, leave two hours between the food and sex, you’ll need it to recover. For your edification, here’s a list of what I ate there just two nights ago (yeah, I actually wrote it down). This list does NOT include the 60+ other items I didn’t eat (oh, you mean there WAS something you DIDN’T eat?):
APPETIZERS:
• Jumbo shrimp & Soft Shell crab with cocktail sauce
• Cheeses: Swiss Gruyere, French Goat and Brie
• Thin cut salami
• Sushi: California rolls, Maki, Salmon Terrine, Nigiri Maki
• Cauliflower soup

MAIN COURSE:
• Lamb chops, fresh grilled with eggplant
• Pad Thai-Traditional, with shrimp
• Salmon squares in butter sauce
• Three varieties of gnocchi with cauliflower.

Now BREATH! Breath…look out through the floor to ceiling windows at the distant darkening skies, watch the floating boats illuminated in rainbow-colors under the PATTAYA sign—SO like the Hollywood sign—built into green hills. The waitress, seeing the dripping sweat of a food overdose as she does nightly, offers you up a scented wet towel. Towel off those walrus jowls, PaulyV, because another course is coming up, your favorite—the dessert bar!

DESSERT:

• Crème Brulee
• Tiramisu
• Chocolate mousse cake squares
• Fresh-made chocolate and vanilla crepes with chocolate sauce and fresh whipped cream
• Fresh-made fried vanilla ice-cream in a Nutella cone.

Now breath… BREATH! You’re one wafer thin mint from busting open as they deliver the bill and wheelbarrow to lift you past the elegant designer stones littering the 15th floor, into the elevator. Downstairs, you stagger away through the lobby into the night air of Pattaya. Oh yes!

THE LAST NIGHT—CULTIVATED PERSISTANCE PAYS OFF

“Even the losers get lucky sometimes.”—Tom Petty

Last night in Patts, gotta make it a good one. I figure two Goddesses, 9pm and 12. Head out of the Pattaya Bay Resort at 8:30, this side of 9 I’ll get the full menu that Walking Street has to offer. We’ll try a mix of clubs, maybe find a gem in a joint I haven’t stepped into it yet. Hadn’t hit LIVING DOLLS and looked in there—nada. Nada, too, at ICE BAR or IRON CLUB. When I say nada I mean nada I’m willing to pay $100 for. DOZENS I’d pay $50 for—does that make sense? And it’s my last night. Damn it, I’m not settling. Trek on…

Tried PEPPERMINT. This place is loaded. Saw a killer in my first’s night intel but haven’t found her since. #53, wherefore art thou. Not here on my last night. A cutie starts a conversation with me. In Chicago, that fact would be astounding in and of itself. Here, it’s something to avoid. This one wasn’t, but so many are just angling for the drink. I give her my regards and politely take my leave. The draft beer strategy has worked for me. A lineup like this place, yes, I need to sit down and assess, so do so with the most limited hit, drink-wise, possible. Try SAPPHIRE CLUB. Plenty of spinners to be had. But there are plenty of spinners to be had in Angeles, and for 30% less. I’m not paying $100 for a “cute” lay. I want the Goddess, and damnit, she’s not here either. Onward, Christian soldier…

Step into WHAT’S UP CLUB (?). This is one of the top joints for stage shows. Never mind the girls hanging from those gymnastic chains (amazing flexibility and strength), check out the HUMAN CENTIPEDE-like chain of chicks dressed as Egyptian slave-girls, mock licking each other. Ah, they don’t do that in Angeles. Feeling a strange disassociation, fly on the wall stuff. So much happening, not to mention the Korean next to me buying drinks for 5 chicks every 5 minutes. They dance and dance for him and he seems a likeable enough dude behind those spectacles, even mimes and clowns with them as one of the girls mounts him. I look over a blonde onstage and she catches my eye and smiles. She’s lean&mean so I wave her down. Over she comes with a friend. Turns out she’s deaf. Cool! Had a phenomenal girl two years ago who was deaf—maybe it’s kismet. We’re groovin’, says I have a nice face (through her friend). It’s 10:30 now and I’ve got to move so ask about the barfine. The girls converse in signs and she comes back with 1000BF & 3000 for lady. Nope, not doing 3000. Tell her I’ll do 2000 and will give her nice gifts, pair of $50 buck heels lightly worn. Nope, she wants 3000 and doesn’t even make a conceding offer. So much for kismet. Check please!

Onto BEACH CLUB. Sharp hardbody, longlean, great face. No time to hesitate with the two Koreans stuffing 100 baht notes into her bra. Catch her attention and she nods. Comes offstage to me. Tall—love it. Funny how the spinner is so common it’s actually the longer girls I seek these days. She motions at my drink for her and sure, I’ll buy, but tell me, how much will barfine you? (Rude after 20 seconds of conversation perhaps, but this isn’t 19th century tea in Welsh summer). She comes back with 3000. Fellas, THAT’s the new starting point. I say no, not paying that. How about 2300 with the 700 BF= $100. She says no, not coming off 3000. Somehow $100 has become lowballing! NEXT!

Be funny if I didn’t get laid on my last night in Patts, I thought, heading into Moon Club. Had luck here before and WOW, walk in and there’s no Koreans! I’m the game here, about 20 chicks, 2 white dudes. 5 of ‘em are around me including a beautiful dancer I wave down. Sweet dark and sweet, long, a honey. Please tell me the barfine is 1000 or less… “yes, 700”. Awesome, now tell me lady cost 2000. “Yes” Yes, awesome! “But…” BUT???? “I no can boom-boom. Blood.” Oh no, c’mon…that’s just not fair! And she wants to go. Cursed. Two hardbodied doorgirls want to go with me and I’d be glad to take them, for $40 bucks each. NEEEEEXT!

BACCARA CLUB. Careful to avoid NO-PHOTO girl who I had the infamous blow up with two nights before. Have a list of 5 girls I’d happily pay even $120 for…alas, sipping two drinks for 20 minutes, I see neither of them, nor any Goddess. 7’s all over map but for my last night, I’m not settling. JUST NOT MEANT TO ME TONIGHT.

Got one last play: CRAZY HOUSE. One of the best lineups in town. Four hardbody longblondes appear at once—ALL LOCKED UP. Not Koreans, amazingly. Two lushes, white guys, buying out the house, each of them with at least 4 girls drinking with them. I see THE ONE, longlean blonde, great face. I’ve got to fuck her. Alas, she’s with one of the lushes. It’s here I demonstrate patience. I decide to wait out the lush, see how the situation develops. And so I sit at a back table, the FRENZY all about me(lapdances, drinks flowing, electronica—great club) but me, just kinda Zen quite, sipping my club soda. At least 30 minutes go by. It’s 11:30 now. The notion of two Goddesses is over. It’ll be one of none. And it’ll be THIS one, or else. The bill arrives (what would you guess for 5 of ‘em, 5000B?) Pass or play, you taking my Goddess away or not? He staggers off…alone! YES!

I’m on her in seconds. How about having a drink WITH ME now? Sure, but she has to dance first. I buy a drink to lock her up. 10 more minutes go by as she dances 3 songs. Jesus, look at that body…
Back with me and she’s a sweetheart. “Honey, it’s my last night. I want it to be special. Please say you’ll make all my Dionysian dreams come true.” ‘Eh??” “I barfine you.” She waves the mamasan over and they talk. NOW what? Mamasan comes at me with: “She want to go, but…” Please, no more buts! What’s the but?” “She no have ID.” Now something about police, applying for another card. WHATever. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll get her in.” Amazingly, she’s to be had at the discount price of 1000bf/2000lady. VAMOS!

On the motorbike, a turn to kiss me. Always the tell. This should be good. Sneak her though the front desk girl and upstairs to 500. She runs right up to my Humphrey the Humping Hound and falls in love with him BEFORE he even starts to hump her leg. She falls out laughing. If you liked that, doll, see how you like this silly string…

Then the pics. Of course she’s cool with them and I get two outfits modelled from her. The black body stocking with heels on a 5-8 Goddess, jaw-dropping.

Showers, lights dimmed, Russian channel on the box, vibrators in play, and the Goddess appears. And so it begins….and ends.

“New York, just like I pictured it. Skyscrapers, and everything.”—Stevie Wonder.

pp

Photos: Pattaya Beauty 01 02 03
Photos: Pattaya Beauty 04 05 06
Photos: Pattaya Beauty 07 08 09
Photos: Pattaya Beauty 10 11 12
Photos: Pattaya Beauty 13 14 15
Photos: Pattaya Beauty 16 17

Photos: AC Beauty 18 19 20
Photos: AC Beauty 21 22 23
Photos: AC Beauty 24 25 26
Photos: AC Beauty 27 28 29
Photos: AC Beauty 30 31 32
Photos: AC Beauty 33 34 35
Photos: AC Beauty 36 37 38
Photos: AC Beauty 39 40

Wow, now that is a report!! Thanks.....

Love the idea of tipping for the service....I always have to request additional towels, sure would be nice to have them in the room automatically after each cleaning!

Dammit Pauly, why didn't you break this into seven chapters so I would have something to look forward to every morning for a week? That was a hell of a good read and, as usual, outstanding visuals.

By the way, how did you swing having the Pacific Breeze driver meet you at the gate in the Manila airport? I thought you had to leave the terminal, cross the road and go down the stairs to connect with a driver from a non-Manila hotel.

Good stuff! Sounds like a great trip, good for you.

Great stuff Pauly, you're can always be counted on to deliver. The raids happened a couple of weeks back, haven't heard anything since.

There are some nice hotties in your Pattaya line up. I may have to pay the place a visit for the first time in umpteen years the next time I'm in Bangkok...

That was a fun read!

Thanks!

Mr Murasaki, how can you tell which girls are from the Pattaya part of his trip? You must be familiar with the room backgrounds(?)

The first pictures are from Pattaya

There's a Philippines flag in the background of the first girl from AC. All the rest from the middle down are from AC.

By the way Pauly....

I do know know what deity, if any, is out there...or whether karma surrounds us or is just the law of averages or just entropy that rules...

But what you did for the girl whose father passed (or may be not) was a kind and right thing to do.

INHO

Thanks, PV! Another stellar offering.

I'm off to Pattaya and BKK on Friday. The juices are flowing!

Great report Pauly, a good read--nice pics too, although my neck is sore....

I'm feeling guilty about not posting my own report from AC and BKK--from Thanksgiving OK, I'll finish it up....

My experience with the girls from Santos and especially Raymond Street (4 bars open) was similar. Great, sexy girls there; I hardly went into the clubs at all.

Bwana...top places right now are Baccara and Crazy House on Walking Street. The Office on Buakhao. Just be prepared for sticker shock.

Hunter...they treat you like a rock star, right? The risk/reward of a Fields girl at $80 maybe 1/2-1 notch higher in looks vs. the Raymond St. girls at $40 is a no-brainer.

Pauly, I'm not done reading the report yet, but it's one of the better written reports I've seen. It even seems like literature or something that could be in Rolling Stone. Providing the background of your life in Chicago, just personalizes it more and while I'm no college professor, I feel I can realte.

The fluctuating fortunes and circumstances of my own working life make me wonder if I need to make life changes, not just to monger more, but to be able to do more of everything I'm interested in.

And oh yeah, way to max out the lineup! 3x per day...for a month...jeezus!

Does anyone know what the Pharmaceutical availability is like In Thailand?

Traveling to BKK here shortly and Im trying to estimate how many of my meds I will need to stock up on.

I've googled this and I see that Pain Killers and Valium are sold OTC?


I have Rx for Percocet, Lyrica, Ambien and Xanax.

Sorry I didn't mean to derail the thread, I just noticed a few heavy hitters on this thread who might be able to help

Thanks in Advance

J666

PV,

Sticker shock? Remember, my standard is Brazil, so even in Pattaya and BKK everything still seems like a bargain.

Pauly I too like the thin girls, I also am a HUGE boob guy..


Is this combo readily available? Or am I in for a hunt?

Pinay with black dress and black boot/heels is very hot. Other than that, you can see the big dropoff in looks from Pattaya to AC but ya get what you pay for. Surprised you just chilled in your room for three weeks and rarely barfined Fields girls. Maybe because you avoid bars cause you dont drink?

Love your honesty. Why are you a teetotaler by the way? Recovering alcoholic? Health?

PV: Thanks for the clarification. Maybe it's because I am Chinese but I don't find that dramatic a difference in visual beauty between the Thais vs the Pinays from your selection. Especially factoring in price & performance. I tend to go for cute/bubbly vs stunning/stuck-up upon first impression. You paid 1500 piso on average in AC, what was your average EWR+bf in Pattaya?

Looks like I like equal parts Pattaya & Angeles photos ...

I got to go with the thais for looks...but the pinoys are way more fun to play and joke with...

Thanks again...excellent reporting!

Thanks for the great report. I especially appreciate the photos. There are some real cuties there! But, I too, like big tits. Something that is hard to find in Asia.

As a young airman,I spent 11 months in USAF in Thailand, so I know what I am talking about. You can find big tits but they are relatively rare. That is why I haven't plunked down the big bucks for an air line flight to the PI......yet.

So, are there big boobs in Thailand.....or not?


Very Important to me..

Yes there are big-busted Thais, just not so easy to find. I saw quite a few working in houses in the Geylang in Singapore--I thought, "So that's where they all are." But I've had a few in BKK and Pattaya.

A lot of them are "enhanced" now, apparently a recent trend. During my last trip, all but one that I was with had silicone.

Try Mango Massage. Great service, most of the girls aren't flat.

I hear quite a lot about Russian girls.


What, if any, is the take on that.

Bitchy? Beautiful?

Are they more costly than the locals?

Blazers...yeah, I don't drink. And I'm also 2 or even 3X well fucked by 5pm so the urgency is just gone. Fields chicks did right by me this trip and I would urge anyone reading to look up MELODY from SHIPWRECKED or ROSE from SEA STAR, doorgirls, immediately. Last day killers pictured in my report.

Now home, dislocation, dues paying, the bottom of the mountain. Hope I get back next year.

In Pattaya now. Spent five days in Bankok. Girl told me Boob job is second after nose because boobs stay sore way longer after surgery.

Crap.....just got back and I want to go back!! But to AC! I love Pattaya, much nicer place hands down but I love the AC girls. On my last trip to Pattaya I took an AC girl (Who happens to be a retired Santos Girl), who fucked me good, spoke English, and had fun.....that combo actually worked out good!

Marvin...addicting, isn't it? That's why when the financial powers that be holding a sword over my head threatening to cut off funds for my trip--I panic! Brown-as-a-berry bodies, spinner after spinner who role play IN ENGLISH, wearing NO RUBBER, for $35 bucks???

AC is a shithole, but it's our shithole.

Amen to that Pauly

" take the night’s dose of 100mg of Viagra and 10Mg of Cialis" at the same time??? how often? everyday? I hope not, sounds like a lot, but you know your body.

great report and pics. one of these days I will venture to either Thailand or PI.

Waiting for a wingman that knows the area to go.

No need to wait for a wingman...If you stick to the main mongering areas in Thailand (like BKK or Pattaya), or Angeles City in PI it is pretty turn-key.....much easier then any other place I have visited. Its complete in your face.....just walk down the main strips....like Walking Street in either Pattaya or Angeles City....easy! That should be enough to peak your interest for a repeat trip and start exploring on your own.

Personally I have always liked mongering solo...everybody likes something different and has a different pace.

i look at these chicks months later, fully back into the money-making routine, dull dull dullness of my USA life, and I can't believe i actually fucked them.

anyone else have that feeling months after the deeds?

Sometimes it does all seem like a dream when the moment has past, and I'm stuck in the humdrum of daily life. And then I look around me and see all the guys who have no idea what they are missing. And then I see the next trip coming through the windshield. The dream returns.

Likewise. When I'm working hard in a tough situation, I just think about what the money I'm earning will buy on my next trip.

I'm still savoring the memories of my last trip, now about nine months in the rear-view mirror, but some of the memories are still fresh. The Mango experiences (pure hot-and-heavy sex) blur together somewhat with Nita's session still freshly sweet and distinct. I can almost visualize a couple of the Filipinas here beside me. But they're all far away.

Sigh.

As you said at the beginning of the report, "The waiting is the hardest part." I've been at this for far more years than I care to disclose, and I've yet to figure out how to make the time pass more quickly or less painfully.

Many of us have seen our workloads grow and grow--an American disease--without any real commensurate increase in salary. So for many, that gap between trips has also grown.

The one positive change is that every puta I know has a smartphone with apps that allow us to have free phone conversations and exchange naughty pics. That helps, although you have to be careful who you share contact info with. Those senseless filipinas will call you in the middle of the night and continually express surprise that you're unhappy to have been awakened. I guess if you've never crossed a time zone...

I keep a countdown clock on my computer desktop indicating how many days/hours/minutes until I touch down in my next destination. Right now it reads 41 days, 17 hours and 7 minutes. I'm not sure that helps.

I was touched by your kindness to Arlene. Because I've spent over half my time in Angeles City since 2009, I know all the gut-wrenching stories the girls use to scam foreigners. The reason the stories work is that sometimes they are true.

There is no safety net whatsoever in the Philippines. A hospital may admit a baby with dengue fever, but if somebody doesn't pay the 5,000 pesos to cover the treatment, the baby dies without treatment right there in the hospital. The same sort of agony backs up the other stories, like Arlene's.

I would rather risk being taken for 5,000 pesos by a lie than risk leaving some baby to die or some girl to suffer grief like Arlene would have suffered had you not been so kind.

I can usually achieve about 70% certainty by asking some questions. If I can prevent a calamity seven times in ten, the money i lose the other three times in ten is a small price to pay, especially since I would have fucked the money away anyway.

Agreed. I was with a girl last month whose preemie died in the hospital because she didn't have money for the incubator. Very sad. I also help out in certain cases, the money ($100 or so at most) means MUCH more to them than to me.