TheBlackoutBlog's Top 5 Tips for Success on Scruff

By now, you must know Scruff, but for those of you living under a rock, it’s a mobile app that lets you interact with men in your area and around the world. Many describe it as the Grindr for hairy guys (thought both apps have unique features); however, Bohoken noticed on his recent trip to Europe that it tends to attract more of a general non-mainstream-guy audience. There are over a million guys on Scruff worldwide, and many of them aren’t on other apps.

Wait, you don’t have Scruff on your phone?! Unacceptable. Go download it now. No, I’ll wait. It’s cool. 

Now that you’re Scruff-enabled, here are my top 5 tips for getting the most out of your Scruff experience.

1. Check your Woofs.

When someone Woofs at you, it’s a passive greeting. Sure, they could send you a message, but sometimes a Woof conveys a greeting better than words. So when you’re on the home screen, click on the icon in the upper right-hand corner that looks like a group of people. This will take you to a list of guys who totally dig your woof appeal.

2. See who viewed your profile.

That’s right! You can see a list of everyone who has looked at your profile. For free! I sometimes go to this list to initiate conversations because I’ve already caught these guys’ eyes. Okay, some may have clicked my profile and thought “thumbfail” (when a guy’s thumbnail is hot but his full-size picture fails to deliver), but some may have been into me but thought I wouldn’t be into them.

Pro tip: I’ve found that I get a spike in viewers, woofs and messages when I fully close and re-launch the app. 

3. Use the “Would you meet” feature.

Each profile has a button that lets you select whether or not you would meet a guy. If you’re both into each other, it tells you so. If not, it does nothing.

4. Use the Global view.

When you log on in the same area repeatedly, you get what I call geographic fatigue: you don’t get as many new messages or viewers because these people see you all day every day. But the Global view connects you to guys around the world who are online at that moment. I’m not sure how it picks what guys show up on your phone, but you definitely show up on others’ Global view. Obviously, you’re not going to connect for a quickie coffee with a guy 1000 miles away. But, and I hate to break it to you, most of the time, you’re not going to meet up with the guy 0.5 miles away either. So explore!

5. Check out the events.

The events page has listings of gay events going on around the globe. You can RSVP and see who else is planning to attend. And now, you have an ice breaker to start a convo! Bam!

Bonus Tip: Enjoy profile freedom.

This is a huge feature that makes Scruff extra awesome! There’s no policing profile pics for underwear waistbands like Grindr does. You can also have your website and Facebook profile linked from your profile. Additionally, there are multiple text fields in each profile (“What I do”, “What I’m looking for”, “Activities and Interests”) so you can share as much or as little detail as you like in your profile.

Scruff is easily one of the most used apps on my phone (only The Economist and my Renaissance art discussion group locator get more use), so I’m obviously having a great time with it. Hopefully these tips will enhance your Scruff hunting.

Click here to check out my Top 11 Tips for Online Dating and Hookups.

Click here to check out 5 Ways to Get More Messages on Grindr.

Fun with Grindr: a considerable social faux pas (Welcome to Asia)

During my recent trip to HK... 

Ah, fuck it. Let's just get to the hilarity that is international travel with Grindr. 

Group sex during the week is a considerable social faux pas. 

He's already learned the most important English word. 

But you DO have a clever screenname (reversed). 

From what I could gather from other convos, chem fun = pnp

(drugs, girl. drugs.)

Now, what here implies that I wield the silent duck? The fact that I'm black or that I look so cool?

(silent duck = what you do with your fist when you're first entering)

Well, this hotel room IS expensive...

Girl, I don't even like crossing 5th Ave. 

the go-home-and-fuck vibe (TheBlackoutBlog Does Asia: Day 8)

Between the jet lag (from which I wasn’t even trying to recover), the Facebook stimuli and the alcohol (who am I kidding; they made drinks so damn weak there!), my Thursday in Hong Kong started quite late. I was pretty content to surf the web and watch Chinese TV in my hotel room most of the afternoon. It wasn’t til the front desk called and asked if I needed my room serviced (hell yeah, as much as this damn place costs!) that I made my way into the outside world. Seeing Snooki and J-Wow appear on MTV China may have also influenced my exodus.

I had a stroll around Central before a long late lunch at a Thai restaurant that was playing early 00s music (“Oh come and dance with me my baby…”).

I’d been talking to a number of guys on Grindr, and I got a ton more attention from Asian guys than I ever did in NYC. One guy seemed really into meeting and not totally psycho/awkward (equally likely and undesirable traits on Grindr). We made late happy-hour plans at a hotel bar. And, in true D. Kareem fashion, I’d traveled 8,000+ miles to end up meeting up with a white Anglophone. At least this one was Canadian.

We decided to meet for a drink at the Mandarin Hotel (note: there’s a new Mandarin Hotel closer to the heart of Central… the older one with the view is closer to the Harbour). He was really pushing for a prime-time meeting, but happy hour is a much easier escape if you decide you’re not into it after your first drink.

Dude was handsome enough. He was funny as hell when we were texting. But he made me kind of uncomfortable while we when we met in person. We had a couple of drinks with relatively few awkward silences, and something told me to go along with it when he offered to show me The Peak.

The Peak is the highest point on Hong Kong Island, a huge tourist attraction. It was already dark, and that night was a bit foggy. But it was something to do as it was still early (and I definitely wanted to check out Volume that night, which I told him). We took a cab up an extremely windy road, whipping around tight curves with frightening speed. It took a good 20 minutes before the cab reached our destination, which resembled a Greyhound terminal more than a tourist attraction.

We walked around the corner where the photo op spot and the shopping center were. My companion remarked that there were far fewer people than he’d ever seen here, likely because it was so foggy. I snapped a couple of pictures that didn’t come out so great, and we went to dinner at a rooftop restaurant beside the famous wok-shaped building.

Either the drinks had set in he got more comfortable or he stopped trying so damn hard because said companion had become a lot more charming by this point. But then he mentioned that most black people that live in Hong Kong performed at Disney (and that he basically tries to date them all).

tram ticket

After a very scary tram ride down that mostly involved moving backwards at (at least) a 60-degree angle, we made our way to his friend’s cozy alleyway bar.

We joked around with his friend while she and the other bartender worked. They poured us (and themselves) sweet shooters with our drinks. My companion went in for a very memorable kiss. Then I walked him home.

I’d had a nice time with him, but I didn’t get the go-home-and-fuck vibe with him. I went up to his apartment for a nightcap (“But look, just a drink. I’m not sleeping with you.”), and, unsurprisingly, he tried to lure me into bed. And after some kissing, I told him I wasn’t trying to go there. Needless to say he wasn’t happy, but he let me go with little hassle as I told him I wanted to see him again.

It was chillier out than I expected, so on the short walk to Volume, I put the hood up on the hoodie I was wearing.

As I was walking, I noticed a van cruising by at a suspiciously slow pace. So suspiciously slow was its pace that I worried slightly for my safety and felt the need to watch it pass me. It wasn’t til it passed a parked car that I realized I was staring down a police van. Now, most black people in America will tell you that they strive to bring as little attention to themselves around the police as possible. Blend in, and there’s less risk of being singled out and targeted. A sigh of relief escaped me as the police van rolled past me, but of course it stopped.

image from aboutfacts.com

A uniformed male officer jumped out with what I can only surmise to be a female officer (though she looked more like she was a young student who had borrowed his large jacket). They asked for identification (I happened to have been carrying my passport rather than leaving it in the hotel safe), patted me down and asked me to empty my pockets. They quizzed me on where I was going, where I was staying and why I was in the country. The girl wrote down a few things, and then I said I was free to go. They headed back to the car.

Me (going against every instinct I had): “Was I doing something wrong?”

Male Officer: “No. Just a routine check. Making sure everything’s normal.”

This is normal?

Though I was relieved to not be handcuffed in the basement of a communist prison, I was in a foul mood when I arrived at Volume. Of course, absolutely no one was there. Plus they didn’t stock Absolut Citron (I’d forgotten that they’d told me the same thing the previous night).

Brit to the bartender: “I’m getting shots. One for each of us… and one for my friend here. What’s your name?”

I introduced myself to this random older white Brit and his younger Asian friend (a writer for one of the local papers). They’d just come from the Scissor Sisters concert, and the Asian writer was fretting over getting a quote for his weekly rag. After our shot and another drink, the writer dragged us (kicking and screaming) to the official Scissor Sisters after party. Of course, by the time we got there at damn near 2, it was over.

#pound

The writer was over nightlife, so she wanted to go to the douchebag part of town for some cheap noodles. She ditched after she ate, so the Brit and I went up the street to some straight bar where an amazing Filipino band was playing pop covers. After about an hour of watching the 40-something blonde woman pull people onto the “dance floor” in front of the band, we crossed the street where they were blasting T-Pain. It was 4:30 or 5 before I asked him to walk me back to my hotel.

Now the Brit was old enough to have some white in his beard, and he probably wasn’t used to a guy my age being into him. So even after my flirtations while we hung out and my insisting that he walk me to my hotel, he seemed a bit shocked when I went in for a kiss.

Me: “It’s a really nice hotel. Wanna see?”

Him: “Sure.”

Did I mention that’s what this tweet (for those of you who saw it) was about:

note the time stamp

Yeah.

Click here to check out Day 7. 

Click here to check out Day 9. 

Click here to check out my first trip to Chicago.

this caused quite the stir amongst locals (TheBlackoutBlog Does Asia: Day 7)

The efficiency of Hong Kong International’s immigration lines was just the welcome I was looking for (I mean, if I couldn’t have an Ambassador’s escort). I had to change my mental currency converter from ~40 to ~7 when I got to the ATM, which made the compulsory HK$100 train ticket that much harder to pay.

The express airport train is almost like the LIRR: comfortable, smooth and quiet. There were even volume controls for the announcement speakers in your headrest. And in about 25 minutes, I was hauling my carry-ons through the middle of some mall (Hong Kong has this thing with transit hubs inside malls) trying to figure out which way was south. Of course, the girl at the mall concierge didn’t know Wellington (a pretty major street in Central), so I had to GPS it and pray I wasn’t exceeding the data allotment I’d pre-paid AT&T for.

Turns out, since Hong Kong is built on a hill (something I didn’t know about until someone in the Philippines told me), they have this long outdoor escalator that basically takes you from the Harbour all the way through the most central parts of town. It’s about 800m (~.5 miles) long and goes about 135m (~450ft) high. As prominent a feature as it is for orienting oneself in Central, it’s easy to miss on Google Maps. My hotel was a minute walk from it.

Ah, the Butterfly on Wellington! I have to say, I highly recommend this boutique hotel. Nicely appointed rooms, attentive staff, very nice bathrooms, comfy beds (well, I only tried one, but still). The price for the cheapest room was significantly more than I wanted to pay (especially when they tack on the 10% service charge, which they also do at restaurants), but the location was unbeatable. Though the rooms were noticeably smaller than American rooms, I’d definitely (save up and) stay there again.

nothing to see here... just another Central HK display window.

GodSwilla (because you should see him swill that white wine… and I know that’s Japanese, but culturally appropriate pseudonyms are few and far between here) was a guy that I’d met somehow in NYC and Fire Island just before his job moved him to Hong Kong. White guy, 40s, loves Asians. He’d actually offered to let me crash with him, but I have this thing about having a full experience when I pay to go to an unfamiliar country. And when I don’t have daily maid service, chefs, drivers and the lot, it just doesn’t make sense for me to tip-toe around someone else’s home (but if I ever go back, I may ask to crash for a night or two to save some cash).

I called GodSwilla as soon as I got to my hotel, and he immediately invited me over to his apartment for dinner, offering to bbq on his roof and show me a couple of bars. I had just enough time to freshen up, grab a snack and take a disco nap.

Now, MicHELLe and her bf had just been to Hong Kong the week before, and they warned me that the bar scene was dead on weeknights. Like crickets. GodSwilla confirmed their observation, blaming it on the “horrible work-life balance.” In a city where the government had just switched to a 5-day workweek (from 6) in 2006, this wasn’t much of a surprise.

Also, when I was researching nightlife, I swore that I must have missed something. Surely a city as populous as Hong Kong had to have more gay bars/clubs than, say Philadelphia. But when GodSwilla brought up the Chinese aversion to Gay, it made sense that the scene was so small.

“So really, Ex-pats and foreigners make up, what, 5% of the population. And 8% of that population is gay. And then that part of the population that has any interest in the bar scene. Doesn’t make for a lot of demand.”

a hotel that rents rooms by the hour in Central

Other things I learned from GodSwilla:

            • Locals get clingy quickly, and they talk amongst each other a lot (sounds like Chelsea).

            • 7-11s don’t take credit cards, but the do sell hard liquor.

            • Apps like Grindr, Jack’d and Hornet will take you a long way.

            • It’s common for younger Chinese guys to live with their parents, so having my own hotel room could be a major advantage.

            • The saunas (Him: “They aren’t as sketchy as the NYC ones.”) are more of an after-work scene (Me: “So they can jerk off and go home to their wives, huh?”).

            • Everything (business cards, credit cards, receipts, etc) is presented with two hands and a slight nod as a sign of courtesy.

Not realizing that GodSwilla was a wino, I’d brought him a bottle of lemon-flavored Belvedere. By the time he was making me a to-go drink in a jam jar (you can do that there), I’d made quite a dent in it by myself.

We strolled down to Time, a tiny gay bar that seemed to be quite happening. What I didn’t realize until later is that they gave away vodka during happy hour every Wednesday night. We’d just missed it!

By the time we made our way down to Volume (or is it Volume: Beat?) GodSwilla had been chatting up Mr. Gay Hong Kong 2010 for a good half hour. Luckily, he was headed our way, too. Apparently, the first Mr. Gay Hong Kong (a year prior to this one’s crowning) was a white Disney performer, and this caused quite the stir amongst locals.

the mirror on the way down the hill in an alley where everybody checks themselves out, apparently...

Volume was hosting their Wednesday night Newcomers party, and the scene was far from dead. I spent way too much time talking to an Aussie guy before realizing that he had probably come (and would probably leave) with the cute Asian guy on my other side who was paying no attention to me. GodSwilla, who had given up on Mr. Gay HK, made me go to the DJ booth and request “Teach Me How to Dougie” (we were talking about how it was the song I heard most in the Philippines... Joel Cruz's staff's attempts at Dougie-ing were fucking priceless!). The stand-in DJ, one of the owners of the bar, didn’t have the song, but he offered to play it or any other songs I wanted to hear off my iPhone. I wasn’t sure if that offer was part of his flirting game, but I definitely gave him the you’re-handsome-and-I-like-older-guys smile.

That night, I got home and tried out all my gay iPhone apps as well as a new site GodSwilla had told me about: Mancrunch (tag line: hooking up tempting twinks with successful daddies).

I did not sign onto Manhunt because when I tried to switch my profile to Hong Kong, it told me I needed a premium account. Now, last time I did a premium account, I was in Australia, and I actually got more than 10 messages/day (a lot more), so it made sense to buy a 7-day membership. I was prepared to do the same in Hong Kong if it got to that point, but requiring payment without even getting a sense for the scene? No thanks!

Oh, and did I mention that it was also around lunchtime in the US when I got home from Volume, which was a rather perfect time to check/update Facebook? Yeah.


Click here to check out Asia Day 6 (which involved me in a Filipino strip club). 


Click here to check out Asia Day 8.


Click here to check out outrageous Grindr convos from my trip to Australia. 

RECAPTION: Ru Paul's Drag Race Season 4, Ep 11

So, if you missed last episode: they brought Kenya Michaels back, they dressed burley guys in drag; Chad Michaels almost got in a fight with Sharon’s DILF (“Dad I’d Like to Frock”); but Kenya got sent home.

For this week’s mini-challenge there were puppets made to look like each of the queens as a boy. Their assignment: to turn the boy puppets into drag queens and do a bit of dialogue with them in character.

Sharon, my pick for most likely to participate in fisting, did the appropriate hand placement when she followed RuPaul’s instructions to select a puppet, reaching into the “big black hole”.

Sharon went first, doing Chad with HUGE lips, no nose and a long wig. Of course, she used a Cher-like voice and had Chad craving a cigarette.

Chad wishes she had a wig that long. 

Latrice imitated Sharon with her puppet in all black lace. It was humorous, but Sharon isn’t nearly as disgruntled as Latrice’s insisting “fuck off!”

To represent Latrice, Phi Phi made a belly out of sequined cloth, big hair and sparkly lips. When Phi Phi asked Puppet Latrice about her necklace, she cut it so it fell apart on stage just like one of the previous runways. Anyone see how she began to mention “My friend Lashawn Beyond” (who is from Ft. Lauderdale, not a long distance from South Beach where Latrice performs… could she have made Latrice’s faulty jewelry)? It was actually a damn funny bit!

Chad made Phi Phi up with a huge snaggle-tooth, which I never noticed before (but now I can’t stop looking at it!). Chad came for Puppet Phi Phi about wearing the same wig and for her “help” comment, imitating Phi Phi’s ditzy character voice that she always does while performing. She ended with a sarcastic “I’m sure America’s just gonna LOVE you!” And with this declaration, Chad won.

Ru told them they were throwing a ball with categories for which they had to design distinct, fashion-forward looks. Then she brought out 4 dogs to inspire their looks. Because Chad won the mini-challenge, she got to assign the queens their dogs. She gave Latrice the Pomeranian. Sharon got the poodle, and Chad took the Chinese crested for himself.

Phi Phi with the bloodhound. Phi Phi was PISSED.

"I have the worst dog!"

RuPaul started her workroom walkaround with Latrice, asking about if she was feeling shakey about her styling since she’d gotten shade from Santino. When Ru asked Chad Michaels about Michelle’s ciritcism, Ru provided some clarification: perhaps they may be looking for more depth (which is important in drag?). Ru didn’t quite take to Chad's Little House on the Prairie inspiration for fashion-forward. Ru wondered about Sharon’s plans to sew a furry bolero and to do tan skin (both unfamiliar territory for Sharon). Phi Phi told Ru she was going for a poodle skirt look, but Ru hinted that the idea may need to be a bit more self-explanitory.

RuPaul left them with one more layer to the challenge: the queens had to prepare a group lip-synch. Chad, as mini-challenge winner, was in charge.

During the rehearsal for the number, Phi Phi was throwing a lot of shade trying to rush things and ended up kind of taking things over. Talk about tension.

Back in the workroom, Sharon seemed very behind. I had to wonder if her hot-glue-gun fur boots were going to cut it, and watching her try to learn how to sew was just tragic!

As the queens prepped for the runway, it came out that Sharon had a supposed gift for predicting events in the competition. Chad gagged, remembering Sharon had totally predicted the outcome of the sitcom challenge. When Latrice asked her who was going to be in the top 3, Sharon guessed everyone but herself.

On the runway, Ru giving us glammed-up white-people dreads. It was certainly different from anything I’ve seen her do before. A Facebook friend commented “It's the Hunger Games up in here! That bitch better grab her bows and arrows!”

do-me-re-sol... get it?

(It turns out my friend was talking about my update about Phi Phi getting defensive because everyone left was teamed up against her, but I could see a Hunger Games girl with that hairstyle!)

The opening number with the queens in puppy drag was too cute! Phi Phi and Chad were the real standout talent in the number.

On Runway Runway

Larice:

• Daytime Dogpark Realness look: less that spectacular. She didn’t seem stable on her heels.

• Pooch in a Purse: Party Girl Realness: her outfit didn’t quite look finished.

• Canine Couture Eleganza: Latrice mentioned “simple” and “clean silhouette”. As always, her silhouette was very femme, but fur trim on a basic brown dress was a bit too simple to be couture.

Phi Phi:

• Daytime Dogpark Realness look: very cute, Nicki Minaj-like with pink accents, including the bedazzled pooper scooper. “Poo poo pee-doo! Phi Phi’s the shit!”

• Pooch in a Purse: Party Girl Realness: a lot of colors, a bit Jiggly Caliente even. But she seemed to be going with this as a theme.

• Canine Couture Eleganza: I thought this look was a bit of a mess, but it tied together well with the brown color, the diamonds and shiny bow on the dog.

Sharon Neeles:

• Daytime Dogpark Realness look: a look that you might actually see at a dog park. And she went Blonde! No scary eyes!

• Pooch in a Purse: Party Girl Realness: “If Courtney and Lindsay had a baby…” The hungover-glam look was pretty awesome and more her style.

• Canine Couture Eleganza: this look was very Sharon. Loved the slim silhouette, paired with the poofy hair. Very poodle (shaved and poofy). And those boots! But have we seen this dress before? It feels very familiar. 

Chad:

• Daytime Dogpark Realness look: I wasn’t instantly in love with this one, but her lost dog presenation was on point, and her belt and shoes were to die for!

• Pooch in a Purse: Party Girl Realness: Flawless look. Loved the shiny fabric and accented hips!

• Canine Couture Eleganza: Not couture, but cute.

What is that smell? And why is Latrice wearing those boots AGAIN?!

The judges loved Phi Phi's performance in the opening number, but during the criticisms, RuPaul asked the queens who they thought should go home. Latrice said that her sister Sharon had a lot of growing to do and got away with stuff that she herself wouldn't be able to in front of the judges (she mentioned unfinished hem lines... while wearing an unfinished hemline). Both Chad and Sharon said Phi Phi. Sharon accused Phi Phi of being cut-throat (agreed), not showing family values among her drag sisters (agreed) and placing herself in the middle of the opening number. Phi Phi turned the cut-throat comment into determination, and she claimed that Chad put her in the center for that number. Again, tension.

I was heartbroken when 2 of my top 3 queens landed in the bottom 2: Chad and Latrice. I have to say: I choose Chad's consistency over Latrice's congeniality, and RuPaul did the same, sending Latrice home. However, I think Latrice got the recognition and respect she deserved, and, much like Willam, making it any farther in the competition wouldn't get her much more exposure than she's gotten. 

Untucked started out with extended footage of Sharon and Phi Phi’s argument from the runway. Sharon stated that Phi Phi took control of the rehearsal (true) and that she put herself in the center for the number. Phi Phi came for Sharon because she had been complaining about not winning a trip. Phi Phi stated, “This competition, to me, is about being a role model by being true to who you are.” Can we rewind to episode 7 when she purposely gave Jiggly bad advice on her dragazine so that she'd end up in the bottom 2? A real fucking role model there. 

In the Interior Illuuuuusions Lounge Sharon tried to say that she wasn’t trying to throw Phi Phi under the bus on the runway, which was totally untrue.  Phi Phi was mad that Sharon had brought up “family morals”, but to finish Sharons phrase: “family morals among your sisters.” Phi Phi threw out that Sharon had been complaining that she wanted a cruise. Sharon claimed, believably, it was a recurring joke.

RuPaul came up on the screen and told them they had a surprise in the gold bar. The queens kept arguing while Dita Von Teese waited by herself in the Gold Bar.

As if she was actually talking about 'lemons'!

Sharon tried to read Phi Phi for taking control and putting herself in the center for the opening number, but Chad stepped in and reminded everyone that she (Chad) was the one who placed Phi Phi “where she was supposed to be,” adding, “if somebody got out-shined, they only have themselves to thank for it.”

While the girls were screaming at each other, Dita Von Teese left. The queens didn’t even know she was on the set!

Chad tried to tell Phi Phi that she was a bit aggressive and needed to take it down a notch, and Phi Phi totally shot her down, saying that because Chad was older, she had more experience controlling herself. I guess Phi Phi thinks because she’s younger that’s an excuse to be abrasive and let her rage fly, huh?

Sharon pointed out that if Phi Phi were gone she’d have nothing but support rather than fighting and tension. Phi Phi then countered with how she did actually try to help everyone, asking them if they were okay and if they needed help even before she was done with her stuff. Now, judging from the lack of reactions from the other queens (except for Sharon saying “I don’t remember that” rather than flat-out denying it), it seemed very ambiguous. It was the same when Sharon threw Phi Phi under the bus in front of the judges the night Sharon won her first challenge (the infomercial). Phi Phi had told Sharon that she’d be fine and reassured Sharon when she doubted herself (something we didn't see or hear about til Phi Phi said it in the Untucked special). Sharon had nothing to say against that either. It makes me wonder if we’re getting the whole story with Phi Phi. And how much is being revealed about Sharon.

Phi Phi took Latrice to the Gold Bar to talk separately. Chad then expressed that she was over Phi Phi’s attitude and tantrums. Apparently Phi Phi had been ragging on Chad about her age, and she wasn’t having it. It didn’t help that Phi Phi wouldn’t take advice from older, wiser Chad either.

Phi Phi continued to vent in the Gold Bar, but Latrice told her that she should learn to pick her battles and let some things go and know that her talent will speak for itself (and as much as I rag on Phi Phi, she really does bring fierceness to the runway and the challenges). One example of Latrice putting her own advice into practice was when Phi Phi brought up Sharon wanting a cruise again. Latrice didn’t fuel the fire by affirming or disputing it: she just laughed and let the moment pass.

RuPaul came on the screen asking Chad and Sharon to join the girls in the Gold Room. The girls attempted to make up. Latrice, Chad and Sharon chalked it up to being under so much stress. The three talked about how strong their bonds to each other have become. Phi Phi just kind of sat there not contributing yet not disputing.

My favorite moment of this episode came after Chad wondered, “I wonder what our dogs are doing…”

I have to admit that Latrice was in my top 3, so now that she’s gone, I really don’t know how to call it. Phi Phi’s got the traditional fierceness, Chad’s got the most consistent fierceness, and Sharon’s got the most eye-catching, attention grabbing fierceness. I’m sticking with Sharon for the win, but it’s really anybody’s game at this point.

Memorable Quotes

“My snaggle tooth is NOT that big.” –Phi Phi

“And what about your wig, Phi Phi. It’s really pretty, but haven’t you worn that like 3 times already.” –Chad

Guest judges: Wynonna Judd and Rose McGowan

“Coming down the runway in a velvet gown! Coming down the runway 400 pounds! I’m Laaaatrice!” –Phi Phi

“I’m the Barry White of drag.” –Phi Phi (imitating Latrice)

“Who’s barkin’? Is that Willam dropping names over there?” –Sharon

“Told ya I was a witch.” -Sharon

“Every dog has it’s De La Renta.” –RuPaul

“I’m gonna see Phi Phi O’Hara very little in the future. Very little.” –Chad

Click here to check out RPDR 4.9.

I ran into The Maverick Men this past weekend! Click here to check out my, er, encounter with them last summer. 

Is this friend of yours going to expect payment? (TheBlackoutBlog Does Asia, Day 6)

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Joel Cruz had promised to take me to a gay club on my last night in town, which happened to be a Tuesday. The Good Ambassador had taken Mom and Dad to the mountain residence, and Cousin Tardy was caught up with god knows what on his computer, so I basically had the house and staff to myself. But rather than relax, I had one of the guards flag down a cab for me so I could buy more cheap underwear at the 199 mall, which, by the way, was about a half hour drive! I feared what the meter would say, but it only came out to 200 pesos (about $5) each way.

image from theeifflers.com

I had just enough time for a disco nap before Joel pulled up. He had everything planned out and was on the phone with the venue’s hostess who was taking care of us personally for the night. You can imagine my surprise when Joel, Frank, his driver and his body guard rolled up to Mankind, which could have easily fit into a strip mall in Wilton Manors (Ft. Lauderdale, where all the nightlife is situated in strip malls). The inside was no more glamourous.

The crowd was sparse, to say the least. A catwalk, which ran from the front of stage and had a platform and a pole at the end, parted the rows of couches and tables that surrounded 3 sides of the stage. We sat right near the catwalk on the front row while Joel’s staff uncomfortably camped out on the side a few rows back.

Our hostess, the 30-something femme twunk who had ushered us in from the door, gave us drink menus, apologizing for the lack of flavored vodkas. I told him I wanted a vodka-Sprite, and Joel pointed to the Absolut on the menu and mumbled something in Tagalong. She came back with a container of Sprite and a goddamn bottle of Absolut. No pressure…

When we walked in, I saw that the biggest group was sitting on the side of the stage opposite the entrance, and all 20 or so of them wore white tank tops. I wondered if they were a group of tourists or just a shitload of friends who dressed alike for someone’s birthday. It wasn’t til I saw one of them duck behind the curtain that led to backstage that I realized that these were all dancers.

Me: “So, do you tip the dancers here?”

Joel: “I have no idea.”

Hostess: “No, you don’t tip here, but if you want to buy one a drink, he’ll come over and flirt with you and touch you and be very friendly with you.”

Me: “I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”

Now, I love tipping a good go-go as he’s performing. And I wouldn’t be opposed to buying a guy a drink to help encourage a free-will decision in my favor. But basically paying a guy for a prolonged interaction that will end at a specified time? Knowing a guy is only paying attention to me because I’m buying him a drink? It’s so not my style.

Now, being in a different country, I expected to find different customs, even in the gay world. But nothing prepared me for what I saw these dancers doing on stage.

First off, they all danced to the slow, old-school ballads. I mean, one performed to Michael Bolton’s classic, “Said I Loved You but I Lied”! I was a touch heartbroken that the night’s playlist didn’t include “My Heart Will Go On”.

And their dancing… it was like slow motion movement between poses. It really reminded me of tai chi. I’ve done similar movement when joking about the glamourous effects of a wind machine. Now, some of these guys actually looked hot doing it (once I got over the initial WTF factor). But some of them looked like they weren’t even familiar with the word ‘gym’… in English or Tagalong. I mean, do some pushups or sit ups… something!

But then, after a few guys did their individual songs, all of them came on stage for a group number. While they had their individual dress for their solo numbers, they all wore white tank tops, daisy-duke denim shorts and cowboy boots. All of them crammed on the stage with the 2 leaders on the catwalk. Their choreography was very simple and repetitive, but even the leaders up front were lackluster in their execution.

Me: “So are the guys up front the choreographers?”

Hostess: “They’re just the best dancers. Some of the other guys have to watch them because they’re not as good.”

Me: “Ah, okay. And the dark guy. Is he American?”

Hostess: “I believe he’s half. Do you like the group number? I can request another for you.”

Me: “That’d be cool. Can I take photos?”

Hostess: “Only of yourselves. Not the stage. Oh, and there’s a shower show later.”

Me: “A shower show?!”

Hostess: “Yes, behind that curtain where they’re sitting.”

The next dancer came out with half of his (quite girthy) erection sticking out of the top of his speedo. I looked over to Frank, who was between Joel’s bodyguard and his driver, giving him thumbs up. He looked back with a horrified look, shaking his head, which made me almost fall off the couch laughing.

Joel: “He must be part something else. Filipino boys aren’t that big.”

Me: “Aren’t y’all all part something else?”

The only indication of time that I can remember when we left was that the bottle was halfway gone. Joel had had a drink, and his driver had tiptoed over a few times to pour himself one, but the rest was all my handywork. Of course, I wasn’t ready to go to bed, but Joel had had enough gay nightlife for this decade. They dropped me off in the gay village on their way back to his place.

I really don’t recall the name of the club I went into, but from the moment I walked in, some guy was eager to introduce me to his friend. He seemed a little too eager.

Me: “Hold on. Is this friend of yours going to expect payment?”

Him: “Nooooo, man. It’s cool. Come meet him!”

So I met the guy. And he was cute. I bought him a drink, and I’m sure we had a nice enough conversation (honestly, I don’t remember). But when I made moves to close towards the end of the night, he was like, “So are you going to pay me?”

Uh, no.

I explained to him that I’d specifically asked his friend if he wanted money. Then he got his friend, and I reminded him of our conversation. Then it dawned on me that I was basically dealing with the equivalent of a prostitute and a pimp. In a far less regulated country.

I don’t think I’d ever found a club’s exit and turned a street corner so fast.

I was relieved to see no goons on my trail as I hopped in a cab. I got home just in time to sleep for about 3 hours before I finished packing, set aside what I wanted The Good Ambassador to ship, and hitched a ride to the airport for with the guy who had come to deliver my bags (ha! I’m not checking any). At the airport, I went through a private entrance and security clearance before being held in an immense lounge with absolutely no people-watching amenities. My plane arrived late. But it was no big deal.

Did I mention I was headed to Hong Kong for 6 days? Yeah!

Click here to check out Day 5 in Asia.

Click here to check out Day 7 in Asia.

Click here to check out my first post on Fire Island from 2008. 

porn already being set up for me (TheBlackoutBlog Does Asia, Day 5)

After a late breakfast on New Year’s Day, we watched the awkwardness that was the Katherson Times Square New Year’s Eve Special on CNN (live, because we were 13 hours ahead) followed by a rather anti-climactic Nashville NYE special. It was a pretty lazy day at the compound until around 6 when The Good Ambassador took my ‘rents to see some IMAX movie. About a half hour later, Joel and company picked me up to head to his country house in Tagaytay, a small mountain town south of Manila. In the back-back seat of the Joel-mobile sat a new face whom we’ll call JK. JK was short, muscled, slightly rotund and gorgeous. And because he spoke very little English, he smiled and nodded at me a lot (even hotter!).

image from redcounty.com

We got onto the Skyway (an elevated highway leading through and out of the City) for about 20 minutes before we exited onto the equivalent of a state highway that was clogged with these sort of motorized pedicab-type vehicles. Seeing the congestion these things caused (and what Joel’s driver did to get around said congestion) makes me realize why NYC pedicabs were regulated.

Once we got into the town of Tagaytay, Joel suggested we stop by Jollibee's, the leading fast-food restaurant in the Philippines. McDonald’s had underestimated the demand for fast food in the country. Today, there are 3x as many Jollibee's locations as there are McDonald’s locations. I’m very wary of fast food (even just a large order of McDonald’s fries does scary things to my stomach), but I felt like Jollibee's would be a cultural experience. Since they were out of baked chicken, I got the fried chicken (or Chickenjoy as they called it).

That was the strangest fried chicken I’d ever had. I took two bites and resolved to wait til dinner was cooked at the house.

I’d forgotten how much I really hate driving through mountains, especially on small, winding roads with huge drop-offs beside them. Especially in the dark. Picture us doing this in an Escalade on roads that weren’t exactly built for the modern American SUV. I nearly shit my pants.

Joel’s sister had told me that this particular country house was undergoing a huge expansion, and she wasn’t lying. The original house was a modest 3-story column. The extension was the same 3 stories with roof-deck (with helipad) and about 3-4x the square footage of the original house. A sweeping spiral staircase, balconies, at least 7 bedrooms, god knows how many bathrooms (each bedroom had one, plus the ones in the gym and common areas, plus those in the hosting/entertainment spaces). Oh, and there was a movie theater.

What I didn’t expect was to be literally sleeping within a construction site. The front of the house was mostly glass, which hadn’t been installed yet. Most of the bathrooms weren’t functional. Florescent tubes dangled by wires where light fixtures were planned. Luckily, the original house was still in tact, and while the exterior wall between it and the extension had been decimated, the doors closed securely to keep out the night breeze.

Joel’s construction crew of locals was surprisingly young (from what I could gather among the conversations, averaging about 18) with a supervisor that was also younger than I. Turns out these workers would end up being our servers for dinner as well.

Frank, Joel’s manager, came to the house with his family: his wife, infant daughter and teenaged daughter. And a bottle of Citron for me. We hung out in the make-shift dining room (fully in the path of the mountain breeze), and the chef asked me how I wanted the seafood I’d requested prepared. Mostly, I involved my replying “It doesn’t matter,” and Joel giving him specific directions in Tagalong.

I made myself a drink to carry upstairs to the movie theater. I’m not much of a movie person, and they didn’t have anything I was dying to see. Frank’s suggestion: Transformers. One of the construction workers brought the Citron and Sprite bottles as well as a bucket of ice and tongs upstairs to my recliner in the theater.

The most impressive thing about that movie was the amount of vodka that had disappeared from the bottle by the end and the fact that I only had to sneak off to the gym’s bathroom twice to pee.

The seafood feast followed approached perfection until that drip of crab juice landed on my shirt.

A young construction worker connected the Blu-ray player in my room as I got ready for bed. I prayed to god that Joel was joking about porn already being set up for me.

The next day, I mostly wrote and took landscape pictures while Joel slept. The view of the lake and volcano was spectacular during the day! When Frank, who had left late the night before, arrived later on, he informed me that while I passed out around 2am, Joel was firing off emails til about 8am because that’s when he’s most productive. So it was a little less shocking when he finally emerged from the master suite around 3pm. Luckily, Frank’s daughter was willing to watch one of the newer Nightmare on Elm Street movies with me til then.

Before Joel had woken up, it came to my attention that I needed to take a massive shit. And it definitely wasn’t the kind that would do well on the road back to Manila. I waddled to the bathroom in the gym since it was the only one 3^rd floor set up. Immensely relieved, I pressed the full-flush button on the top of the commode.

image from misteringo.deviantart.net

Nothing happened.

You wanna talk about panic mode! This toilet had flushed twice with no problem the night before. And this definitely wasn’t just a yellow-let-it-mellow situation. I started to sweat as I took the top off the back of the toilet. Of course, it looked different enough from an American toilet to totally confuse me, but nothing looked broken.

Luckily, I remembered the two large buckets of water in the bathroom’s shower (I’m guessing the shower wasn’t hooked up yet, so the workers used that water to wash themselves). I thanked the toilet gods as I poured out half the bathing water to, er… take care of the situation. It worked like a charm.

We eventually bade Frank and his family farewell, and I made sure to say goodbye to the workers (I got the impression that this wasn’t exactly expected as courteous behavior). It was a long ride back to The Good Ambassador’s compound.

My parents and The Good Ambassador weren’t home when I arrived, but Cousin Tardy was. I hadn’t seen Cousin Tardy in about 10 years, but when I was about 12, he came to live with us after he dropped out of State. Let’s just say that his reputation is not the most reliable. He’d been in the Middle East working after getting discharged from the Army. A few months before, he’d traveled to Manila and, for some reason, couldn’t get in contact with The Good Ambassador. Somehow.

I let Cousin Tardy catch me up on what was going on with him for about 15 minutes before I cut him off, excusing myself to lie down for a nap. When I awoke, the others were back, and Cousin Tardy was telling them about how he was planning on using his GI Bill to go to school in a very obscure town in the Philippines. Just so happens he knew a girl that lived there. His mantra: “I’m here to do good.”

Me: “KIM said she was taking me to people-watch at Havana Café.”

The Good Ambassador: “Oh, you mean Ho-vana Café? Take your cousin with you.”

I imagine if I were 16 and I were to have a brother was 12, I’d feel very much the same as I did in that moment.

KIM, Tardy and I piled into a cab and headed to the shopping mall courtyard that housed a Starbucks on one side, a Seattle Café on the other and Havana Café in the middle. And even before we got there, I could see why they called it Ho-vana. Prostitutes and lady-boys all strolling. Not necessarily cruising, at least not on the walkway to the courtyard. An unaware person may think it’s just a hangout spot for teenagers and young adults… but may wonder about some of the fashion choices.

image from pr.openrice.com

We took a seat at Starbucks and basically cackled at older Brits and ex-pats sitting with young Filipino girls chatting and buying them drinks. That is, until Cousin Tardy brought up the company he’d applied to work for in the Middle East with which his application was supposedly pending.

KIM: “Wait, I think that’s [name] over there.”

Cousin Tardy: “Who?”

KIM: “The CEO of the company you’re trying to work for. Yup, I’m pretty sure that’s him over there. I know him. Want me to introduce you?”

Did I mention that the exchange, which I opted out of participating in, likely brought his status from pending to rejected? Yeah.

Click here to check out day 4 in Asia. 


Click here to check out day 6 in Asia.

Click here to check out that time I entered a hot body contest.