Hey Dudes! Here’s coming at you from Manila. If you’re dumb, that’s in the MOTHERF*CKING PHILIPPINES! It’s no Shangri-La, but at least they have FREE PRESS HERE (I’m looking at you, China). They also have the famed fast food Chain, Jolli-bee, of which there is a branch in East Los Angeles.
What do they promise? Well, don’t take my word (because it shouldn’t be trusted), check out the website for yourself: http://www.jollibee.com.ph/index.php?/menu. Yes, folks! They promise Rice Meals and Tuna Pies! THIS IS THE COUNTRY THAT I’M VISITING AT PRESENT. Other things the Philippines offers? Why, a budding electronics and transport industry, active volcanoes and eight-division world champion boxer/CONGRESSMAN (SLASH FUCKING CONGRESSMAN) MANNY PACQUIAO!
But, I digress. You see, I came to the Philippines by way of Hong Kong, but before that I was in Bangkok, Thailand which was half amazing, and half horrifying.
Thailand, you’re soooo bipolar.
1 The whole f*cking country smells like f*cking lotus flowers.
2. The King (and yes, it’s a f*cking MONARCHY) has a Harvard Education in Agricultural Studies.
3. An abundance of stray tortoiseshell cats
1. Lack of human rights
2. Ping Pong Shows
3. An abundance of stray tortoiseshell cats
I know what you’re thinking. HOLD UP, LADY. How can all those cats be tortoiseshell, especially when historically, only female cats have the distinctive tortoiseshell marking? Well, I want to talk about the first/second of the three horrifying features of Thailand, the Ping Pong Show.
I thought it would be cute. I thought it would be like porn. I thought it would be a fun cultural event. IT WASN’T.
My brothers and I had this awkward Thai tour guide who hated Cambodians (god damn, all Thai people hate Cambodians, even though they seem to have given Thailand like, half of their architectural ideals). Anyhow, after the tour she started sort of hitting on my littlest brother, but not really. Like in a weird 40 year old Thai woman awakward way. Anyhoo, we ended a tour with her at this gem factory when she asked us if we wanted to go to a Ping Pong show.
That night, the guide had us meet her specifically away from our hotel and outside of the realm of her tour cronies. We met her on a street after a couple of Singhas and didn’t know what to expect. I put on makeup and my best cutoffs; the tour guide was still in her 3rd world street casual wear, plus an extra backpack. But there wasn’t a whole lot of fucking time to think about cultural fashion discrepancy; It was about 84 degrees and we were ready to PARTY.
By minute 5 in the cab, my youngest brother was ready to go home. Still- we were all in this together. We went to this alleyway which contained a doorway into another alleyway into another alleyway into some type of wooden bar structure where we paid an 85 year old Thai man 2,000 Bhat to go inside. We did. Our guide wanted to wait outside but we thought bringing her was the POLITE THING TO DO. Hey, that’s how Leib’s are- polite and all-inclusive, bitches.
Inside, there were three stripper poles on a stage about four feet by four feet. Surrounding the stage were a ton of westerners who were apprehensively sipping drinks- their pale, mottled sking dripping of sweat- and watching a woman pull some sort of paper mache lanterns out of her vagina and hanging them festively on the stripper poles.
I thought- is this what the Portugese traders envisioned when they arrived in in the mid-1400’s?
As a bikini-topped thai woman expertly opened a bottle of coca cola light with vagina I thought- no.
I want to emphasize that I was watching this with both my brothers, and of the 50-some people in the room, NOBODY WAS ENJOYING WHAT THEY WERE WATCHING. We were all bound by money, curiosity and pride. It was like chicken or a drag race, only the racers were overweight, clammy white people and the cars were 19 year old Thai women who were writing “welcome to America, XOXO” with their pussies using a sharpy marker.
BTW, gentle readers, never put a sharpy in your pussy, let alone attempt acts calligraphic in nature.
Also, don’t ever put razor blades in your pussy, even if you don’t seem hurt. One woman did this and then used the razors to cut the “weclome to America” paper so that audience believed that the razors were legit.
The problem was, we DID F*CKING BELIEVE THESE WOMEN. Too much. Nobody was doubting what they had to do to make this show possible. There was a rotation of about 5 women, each warming up the audience with techno-remixes of popular American songs. Say, Creed’s “Take Me HIgher” and that “Pa Pa-Americano” song. They’d do sort of close dancing with one of the poles, like how someone’s dad would dance if his arms were broken at a family wedding or bar mitzvah. Then, they’d wipe down the stage with a rag, a f*cking RAG, and either a. pull something out of their vagina, b. open or complete a task with their vagina, or c. shoot something out of their vagina, e.g. ping pong balls or a greased banana. They would often times try to get the audience involved with the show, because every good performer likes a healthy dose of audience interaction. But to everyone’s depressed acknowledgement, nobody wanted to touch a used vagina ping pong ball or handle a vagina-peeled mango.
As the woman did their thing, I realized that not only did they hate what they were doing, THEY HATED US ALMOST AS MUCH AS WE HATED OURSELVES FOR BEING THERE. I asked our guide (who was still incredibly nonchalant about the whole thing) if they got paid, and she vaguely said that they got a cut of the drinks sold. Which is weird- because we all got one free drink and I’ll tell you- NOBODY was ordering shit at that place. As the final act finished- a well-hung Thai man f*cking a displeased performer in a wide and impressive array of positions, my brothers and I were done. We followed suit and left with others who had lost their nerve, and headed back to the hotel.
So, if you’re ever in Thailand, skip the Ping Pong show. Even if you really, really hate yourself (and believe me, I hate myself just as much as the next overweight alcoholic jewess comedian living in Los Angeles) don’t go. Instead, donate to this very legit anti-sex trafficking org: http://ecpat.net/TBS/en/Support_campaign.html, which is exactly what I did when I got back, aside from taking a really, really thorough shower.