Stickman Readers' Submissions June 10th, 2006

Thai Thoughts And Anecdotes Part 137


If I told you the story.
If I laid it all out.
You wouldn't believe it–
You'd think me a lout.

He Clinic Bangkok

Except this is the Kingdom–
Where in is out.
Here nothing makes sense–
And a whisper is a shout.

Stories in Thailand–
Stories in bars–
Forget the outside;
You are now on Mars.

A place beyond sense.
A place with no rules.
God bless Thailand;
Where bar stories rule.

CBD bangkok


I don't know if you alpha male guys have any regrets in your lives. Probably not. I'm the big screw up. People are right when they say that some of your biggest regrets will be the things you did not do in life. One of the biggest
regrets in my life is that I did not take pictures of all of the wonderful Thai women who have shared their lives with me. I'm not talking about racy pictures. Just their smiling beautiful faces with their names on the back. A partial record
of my life. I'm taking pictures now but I can never make up for what has been lost.

Another regret is that I did not start a journal of stories heard in bars from the first day I arrived in the Kingdom. Stories that got my attention at the time and were a part of the fabric of my life but have since been forgotten. The typical
or the goofy or the funny or the farang urban legend or the reworked old joke or the old con. I believe that a sense of humor is a sign of intelligence and I believe men are the funniest primates. I love men talking. You all know what I am talking
about. Guys are clever and smart and wise and funny. And bargirls god bless them can perform feats of illogic and childish centricity that are awe inspiring. Nonsense you wouldn't accept from a ten year old you feel like giving them a trophy
for. Because they took you out of yourself. For a minute you were just transfixed by the moment. So between the bargirls and the visitors and the expats the bars are full of interesting people who tell interesting stories. The men mostly make
me laugh and the women mostly just stun me with brain freeze illogic and stupidity and charm. What a wonderful mix. I love the bars of Thailand and I love the stories I hear in the bars of Thailand.

Anyway, I am now starting to keep a journal of stuff heard in bars. Below are some examples:

wonderland clinic


Stop me if you have heard this (you've all heard it):

Aussie: I tell you mate the best girls are in Angeles City in the Philippines. Better curvier bodies and less expensive and more fun.
Me: Really?
Aussie: Yup

Me: Fair dinkum?
Aussie: Fair dinkum!

Me: So let me see if I understand you. The best women for sex are the pudgy Catholic Filipina women to be found near an old defunct U.S. airbase town outside of Manila. Out of all the world's wonderful possibilities they are the best.
They are the most fabulously feminine, and the most sexually provocative, and the most glamorously beautiful? Spanish-Indian-Black mixes in Rio, dark skinned temptresses of the Mediterranean, green eyed blondes from Scandinavia, black-purple wild
eyed Haitians, dusky Sudanese princesses, etc; out of all the world's exotic and diverse and heart stopping women the high body fat content peasant faced little Roman Catholic daddy's daughters of the Philippines are the pick of the

Aussie: Yup.

Me: Ok, then let me ask you a question. If these are the best women in the world what are you doing here in Bangkok?
Aussie: Well, normally I wouldn't be slumming in this Siamese cesspit but I have just gotten a big huge important
management position with a big huge important international company in Rayong.

Me: Really . . .
Aussie: I'm dyin' if I'm lyin'!

Me: What is the name of the company?
Aussie: That's not really important. Want a beer?


Stop me if you've heard this (you've all heard it).

Sven: Hi.
Me: Hi.
Sven: First time in the Kingdom?
Me: Not exactly.
Sven: So you are a newbie, huh?
Me: Well . . .
Sven: Ever think about livin' here permanent and shaggin' till it drops off?
Me: Well
. . .
Sven: I'll cut to the chase because you look like a saavy international investor.
Me: What?
Sven: I gotta a friend who is friends with a Thai policeman and he's got a friend who knows some Indians from Soi 11 and they
are hooked into some expats from Chiang Mai who are siphoning cash money from restaurants and . . . well, the point is I am now in a position to buy one of the top Go-Go bars in Koh Samui. Half ladyboy and half Thai gay and half lesbian shower
stuff. I'll explain what ladyboy means later since you are so new to the Kingdom. Because of the policeman insider connection this will be a well connected operation and we forecast four million baht per week gross with at least one million
baht profit–that's approximately $25,000US profit per week. And I already know what you are thinking and the answer is YES–the nooky is free. I have one other investor plus me. We need one more investor. That would mean the
$25,000 profit per week would only be split three ways. Are you interested?

Me: Well . . .
Sven: $25,000 per week divided by three would mean you and the other investor (a high ranking government official) and I would each be jamming $8333.00 per week into our dick infested pants. Or approximately 333,320 baht
in chink terms.

Me: Well . . .
Sven: Interested?

Me: Well . . .
Sven: Of course you are. Your one third investment in this nooky gold mine is only $40,000 but you have to promise to keep it a secret. I'd tell you why you have to keep it a secret but then I'd have to kill you
. . . ha, ha, ha. What do you say? Do you want to go to an ATM machine now and withdraw a $2000 binder so that I can start drawing up the partnership papers and freeze the price? Do you want to meet the mamasan and the top dancers (I mean future
free women) this weekend? Or are you gay–heh, no offense.

Me: Well, I did have one question.
Sven: What's that?

Me: I just realized I left the hotel with no money. Can you pay for this beer?
Sven: Gotta go. See ya.


Ok, you probably haven't heard this one–

Barguy: Hi.
Me: Hi.
Barguy: Say, aren't you that rockin' Dana cat from the site?
Me: Yes, that's me.
Barguy: Far out. I've read everything you have written. You are the man.

Barguy: I mean you are the man. You got it goin' on. You get around dude.
Me: Well, that is nice to hear. Writing is hard work. It is nice to get some positive feedback.
Barguy: Yeah, cool–and what I like is the way you
lay it all out and just be trippin' on sex if it feels good without gettin' all wrapped up in lotsa rules 'n stuff. You dig brother?
Me: Well . . .
Barguy: I'm into anything that feels good and I know you know what
I mean. In Detroit the project bitches call me Mr. Dong if you get my meaning.
Me: Ah . . .

Barguy: I tell ya man–when I read that story about you drillin' the tranny on your last night in Bangkok I nearly sprayed all four walls plus the ceiling and floor. You know what I mean bro?
Me: Ah . . .
Barguy: So I am across
the street at the Nana Hotel. Wanna come over and lube me up and get busy?
Me: What?


You've never heard this–I did.

3:00 p.m. at an open air beer bar in South Pattaya–

Bargirl: Sa Wa Dee Ka–
Me: Sa Wa Dee Khrap–

Bargirl: My name is Boom.
Me: Nice to meet you.

Bargirl: I have seen you around a lot so I am not going to tell you that I need money for my sick mother, or my brother's operation, or the dead buffalo, or a leaky roof, or my smashed motorbike, or my little sisters schoolbooks.
Me: Dee maak. I'm glad to hear that.

Bargirl: So could I have 100 baht for being so honest?
Me: What?


Every experienced farang has his favorite open air bar. And he usually wants to tell you about it. I used to take these recommendations seriously and follow up on them but it never worked out. It's all too personal. One man's meat
is another man's poison. Pretty much 100% of the time I was disappointed. Etc. So I am not even going to tell you the location of my favorite open air bar.

Anyway, I went in my favorite open air bar in South Pattaya one late afternoon and there is Lon smiling at me. And she says,

"Dana, give me some money and I'll buy us a chicken for tomorrow. Come by tomorrow about this time and you and I and the girls will have dinner."

So I give her the money for the chicken.

Next day I walk in and there are the girls, and there is Lon, and there is a counter full of Thai bargirl food, and there is the chicken. And I do not get one piece of chicken. Not one smile and not one piece of chicken. The girls eat it
like soi dogs tearing at a dead rooster. No one offers me any, and no one slides the chicken down my way, and no pretty girl feeds me small pieces by hand. I don't say anything.

Ok, technically it's not really a story heard in a bar. Well, it's kind of a story. It's a 'buy us all a chicken and we'll all have a good time' story. I got a big story from Lon and she got a big chicken from

Score: Thai Girls 1–Farang 0.

I'm still pissed. There, I feel better.


Nong: I'm glad you came to say goodbye.
Me: I haven't got much time.

Nong: While you are gone I am going to quit the bar and not cruise the boardwalk for customers. I am going to become Hi-So woman in my heart and never do wrong.
Me: What will you do for money?

Nong: Could you give me 2000 baht?
Me: 2000 baht? That won't help. I'm going to be gone six months.

Nong: It won't be easy.


Never heard this whopper since and you've never heard it.

Bar Bum: Hi, what's your name?
Me: Dana.

Bar Bum: Is this your first trip to exotic wonderful Thailand?
Me: Well, no.

Bar Bum: Do you know what starts tomorrow?
Me: Nope.

Bar Bum: Songkran.
Me: What's that?

Bar Bum: It's a special Thai holiday where the Thais throw buckets of water at foreigners and smear powder all over your face and clothes. No entreaty to not do this will make them stop, and there is a good chance that you will lose
your contact lenses and go blind, have your clothes and cameras ruined, and be on your knees in public surrounded by jeering nationals having the dignity washed right out of you. I'm surprised my friend Joe Cummings didn't go into it
in that Lonely Planet book you are holding.
Me: Oh dear–I don't think I like the sound of that.

Bar Bum: I could tell that would be your reaction because just by looking at you I can see that you are an educated man of taste and class.
Me: Well . . .

Bar Bum: So you might be interested in the special club that this bar has during the Songkran holiday.
Me: What's that?

Bar Bum: It's called the Songkran Protection Club (SPC) and If you pay the bar a membership fee of 15,000 baht you can hide out here for three days and nothing bad will happen to you–sort of a port in a storm. Nobody will disrespect
you, and nobody will throw water at you, and your clothes and hair and contact lenses and cameras and backpack and glasses and wallet and money and dignity will not get ruined by having powder rubbed in them. It's a way to bond with the wonderful
friendly Thais at their best and make friends for life. I'm the official bar comptroller and club secretary for this. I collect the fees. If you pay the 15,000 baht Songkram bar protection fee now the next two beers are free. Part of the

Me: I'll think about it.

Bar Bum: Are you familiar with the Pope mobile?
Me: Yes, it's that bubble car the Pope rides around in in public so that he can not get shot.

Bar Bum: Righto mate and as a club member here during Songkram you will get to use the specially designed and highly engineered Songkran Protection Club tuktuk mobiles. Special tuktuks that have been fitted with plastic bubbles to protect
men of educated taste and class like yourself. This club has eleven of them. It's all a special service because the owner here is an expat that loves tourists and wants them to have a wonderful safe time here in the Kingdom. Lucky you found

Me: Do you mean during this Thai holiday called Songkran that a Thai might try to shoot me?

Bar Bum: No no nothing like that. Again, I am surprised that Cummings did not go into detail on this in that Lonely Planet book you are holding. Anyway, the tuktuk mobiles are for club members so that when they are traveling to the bar and
back or when they are doing errands around town they will be protected from the water throwing.
Me: Very interesting . . . could I see one of these tuktuk mobiles?

Bar Bum: Sorry not now–they are all at the Thai auto registry in Chonburi getting their roadworthy documents upgraded. This is a very straight ahead country that does everything by the book.
Me: I see.

Bar Bum: So anyway: I'm the official bar comptroller and club secretary for this. I collect the fees. If you pay the 15,000 baht Songkran bar protection fee now the next two beers are free. Part of the program.
Me: I'll think
about it.

Bar Bum: Or you can allow us to hold your ATM card here during the festivities and if you are not 100% thrilled with the service you will get double your money back. The mamasan here named Ning will handle that part of the escrow ATM card
account services of the Songkran Protection Club.

Ning: I no lie you–you number one GI.

Me: Check please.


I experienced this little implausible drama at the GOOD DEAL bar in Kanchanaburi (and you thought BKK was bad).

Ugly Bargirl #1–My name Na. You want 'short-time'?
Me: Ah . . .

Na: I have beautiful sister Naa. Two girl–2000 baht.
Me: Your name is Na and your sister's name is Naa?

Naa: Na and I–2000 baht. Only one thing.
Me: One thing . . . ?

Na: Yes, I sore from too much boomsing, and Naa have period so no sex. You have camera?
Me: You want me to take pictures of you two?

Na and Naa: No, we take pictures of you jerk off–2000 baht.
Me: You want me to pay you two ugly girls 2000 baht to take pictures with my own camera of me jerking off?

Na and Naa–3000 baht.

Me: What?


Aussie: Goodaye mate.
Me: Hi.

Aussie: You a Yank?
Me: Actually, we call ourselves Americans.

Aussie: I'm from the land down under.
Me: I'd have never guessed.

Aussie: Finest nation in the history of the rock.
Me: Isn't that the nation that was founded with the dregs and the losers and the castoffs and the criminals and the debtors of the finest nation in the history of the rock–England?

Aussie: Aw, that ain't right. That's just pansy limp wristed faggot political rewriting of history. Fact is the first people to come to Aussieland and settle were men and women who had decided not to take it from the system. They
weren't going to let the man and the system and politics and liberals tell them what to do so they emigrated.

Me: Let me see if I understand this. The first Australian pioneers and settlers committed crimes in England so that they would be expelled to a wasteland as their way of triumphing against the system?

Aussie: Listen you faggot Yank how'd you like this fist shoved up your rear? How would you like me to smash this glass in your face? How would you like my girlfriend to get some of her buddies to mess with you? How would you like to
kiss my billabong? How would you like to have both of your little homosexual Yank arms broken? Etc. Etc. Etc. Etc. Etc. Etc.

Me: Checkbin please.

You get the idea. It's always a personal thing. What you remember. These are just the first nine stories that came to my mind in the last twenty minutes. It's a concept thing. If I wasn't engaged in a daily fight with the forces
of senility I could probably think of another fifty stories in the next month. Anyway, as you know there are thousands and thousands and thousands of noteworthy stories. So noteworthy that it would be a crime if they were to be lost. So this is
what I propose.

I propose that we all work on a project to collect and record and save the most noteworthy stories of the bars of Thailand. All stories will be sent to me with an International Money Order for 1000 baht. I've got expenses. I'll
do the collecting and editing and collating (fancy funding request word) and then have them reduced to microfilm made up of carbon buckyballs and plutonium and melted bargirl flip-flops. The microfilm will then be stored in a mountain in the state
of Utah here in the United States.

This way the best stories of the bars of Thailand will never be lost. It may be that after our present and future foolishness has reduced the earth to a burned out nuclear holocaust cinder that the only thing left to trumpet our civilization
will be the Thailand bar stories buried in a mountain in Utah. This is what the Martians will find when they come here. So let's get going. Start sending in your best Thailand bar stories. We owe it to the Martians.

Of course dreaming is never enough. We need to set a goal and work a plan. So let's establish a goal of every reader sending me one story a month (plus the 1000 baht per story). That should be about 30,000 stories
per month or 360,000 stories per year. 360,000 stories times 1000 baht per story equals 360,000,000 baht. That should cover my expenses. If I need more money I'll notify everyone. And don't forget why you are doing this–it's for
posterity, for the human race, and for the Martians. All story submission participants will receive quarterly story digests printed on mulberry bark paper and bound using black strands of hair from top of the line bar girl pole huggers. All digests
will be autographed by me and will include 8 x 10 sepia toned photos of me.

Ok, hold it . . . hold it–"CUT"–Jesus Mary and Joseph–don't know what I was thinking; that is way way too much work. Forget the quarterly digests dudes and dudettes; just send the money. Anyway, the reason you are doing
this is the good feeling that comes with knowing that you are part of this historical planetary repository of Thailand bar stories.

Thank-you and I'll drink to that–bye the way; did I ever tell you about the time . . .

"Well it was like this: On a dark and stormy night . . . the dogs couldn't smell us and the tunnel almost collapsed . . . Nong got caught on the concertina wire . . . slashing rain . . . when we started there were eight of us .
. . I'm dyin' if I'm lyin' . . . the brewery chemists never knew . . . her father was a police captain . . . the Pope and two pole hugging nuns . . . eighteen million baht split three ways . . . and that's the god's
honest truth mate."

Stickman's thoughts:

Arrived in the nick of time, but no time for me to read and make comments. Let's home it's clean!

nana plaza