Life In The Mid Week

We’ve all heard the myth that Singapore is that tiny dot with nowhere to go on a weekday, or at least before Wednesday, which is for most, the start of the weekend. And that is true, for most parts, until you discover the world of Thai discos.

If you haven’t already realized, Thai discos are the newest rage on the night scene, even though they’ve been around for years. They are so popular now, they are springing up all over the place like genital warts on a $10 back-street whore.

And this is a place that defies the popular notion that no one parties on a Monday. There is a crowd regardless of day, just as long as there’s someone pretty singing on stage and a couple of other hot asses parading the club peddling shots.

No one is sponsoring my blog so I won’t even begin to name drop.

Just the other day, we went to Geylang – I have so much to write on this place, it will take me seven volumes and a magic wand to complete writing it –for market visit on consumer consumption patterns for the pubs.

So we started at a place that one of my colleague recommended and I knew it was going to be shit because I’ve not heard of it. However, professional etiquette and a mission to run the entire gamut of what Geylang had to throw at us eventually drove us there.

Now, I know a pub is good when I walk in and I see a pretty face within the first 5 seconds of stepping through the door. Sometimes I am greeted by other positive sights like cleavages or mini-skirts, which I shall refer to as pull factors. And sometimes these cleavages also come with saggy boobs that will touch her knee cap within the next year, of which I refer to as push factors.

This club had a significantly higher push than it did a pull but because this was strictly a visit built on the premise of work, we decided to stay for a drink anyway. I sulked, but no one gave a shit.

It got worse because as we started walking further in, I spotted this one particular Amazon by the chalk board and my first thought was, “that is one muthafucking ugly transvestite”. When we got closer, I thought to myself again,

“I am right. That is one muthafucking ugly transvestite.”

I say transvestite because I am convinced that this is simply a man in drag and he still has a penis. I believe there is an international law for sex change and even surgeons have to abide by this moral code that if you are ugly, you are not allowed to have your penis chopped off. If there isn’t such a law, then there should be.

What the fuck are transvestites doing in a bar supposedly demarcated for Vietnamese? Well, they are friends of the patrons of course, why did I not think of it?

They might as well be working there too because the other girls there weren’t even the least bit worth a consideration. If you were absolutely- held by gun point to you dick- forced to choose one, then you’d probably have a hard time choosing between a walrus and them.

I’ll pay some credit because there were some that were decently pretty but they either came with un-proportionate silicon tits or looked like they were religious fans of anorexia.

Years ago when I first went to a pub like this with LB, we got conned – coerced or pressured, however you choose to see it – by two Viet-congs, and I learnt a $20 lesson that day; No isn’t just about saying, it’s about making them understand that you don’t want them within 2 metres of you.

Years on and inured with lived experiences, I got so good at rejecting them, some of them would actually yell at me before they leave and I always imagine them to be praising me for it, only just alot louder. Then sometimes, there are the ones that just come out with the weirdest reasons.

She: “Hello.”
Me: “No thanks.”
She: “But you send me signal.”

This was highly amusing to me because for one, I wasn’t even looking at her. I certainly wasn’t waving and neither was I even smiling. And now all of the sudden, I was sending her signals? What the fuck is she? A Dolphin?

How the fuck am I even transmitting signals to her? So I used my hyper squeak sonar, “eek eek” that said, “fuck off”.

We finally left the place and headed down to this other place that was spinning hard techno remixes of techno songs. This was basically a bastardization of what is already a very fast beat as with all techno music, way harder and faster than any Hard Trance that I will readily shuffle to.

And when I am sober and unable to catch up to the beat, you can imagine what people who are drunk and trying to sync their dance to the beat will look like. Three words,

Best.Entertainment.Ever

There was this one particular guy who was so decked in Addidas, if Addidas ever hosted an Olympic, he would qualify as a mascot. He was entertaining because he was so smashed, he couldn’t make up his mind whether he was going to do the running man or pop and lock. I realized than that if a Polio kid with nerve damage ever danced, it would look just like that.

I laughed so hard I almost shat my pants and I thought nothing was going to top this. Then I looked at the DJ console and realized that I couldn’t be more wrong. What could be funnier than watching one man dance like that you ask?

Three man dancing like that next to the DJ console.

So who says Geylang is all about erection relief, foreign talents and late night suppers?