FriscoKid

Ballz only. Every 2 weeks, whether it needs it or not because Susan loves a hairless sack.

You take the blue pill, the story ends. You wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. Have you ever had a dream that you were so sure was real? What if you were unable to wake from that dream? How would you know the difference between the dream world and the real world? I'm sorry, kiddo. I really am. You have a good soul. And I hate giving good people bad news. Don't worry about it. As soon as you step outside that door you'll start feeling better. You'll remember you don't believe in any of this fate crap. You're in control of your own life. Remember? Here. Take a cookie. I promise, by the time you're done eating it, you'll feel right as rain.

Give us the whole list and I'll point out the one.

Never a day goes by without Susan making a dozen posts about penis size. So obsessed. Just buy a dildo already and call it quits, FFS.

Then just avoid Soi 6 and you'll be good, bob Mark.

He still is, but he had style back then at least, Mark.

Mark, Bob used to be the forum’s resident tranny rouser, I’ll give him that. Actually had a pair back then. Posted some completely unhinged nonsense sometimes, but at least it was entertaining, good for a proper laugh. Now? Just a sad little stream of whimpering about not being popular or liked enough. Imagine falling off that hard. Pathetic doesn’t even cover it.

Susan, have you ever actually been to Thailand or are you just the international travel expert from your mum’s basement? Honestly, with all those years of rent-free living, you’d think you could’ve scraped together enough for a budget airline ticket by now. Or are you still saving up for that first big day out to the local shopping mall in Sydney first?

Bob, are you joking? When I see one of your topics, I get nothing but wood. Solid, matey. Just gave this topic 5-stars and left you a red heart.

Pre-Covid, say around 2017-2018, Bangkok city center was basically one big police checkpoint after dark. Thonglor, Ekamai, Wireless, Phayathai, they practically rolled out the red carpet for breathalyzers once the bars shut. I lost count of how many times I got pulled over on my bike for the usual routine: license, paperwork, breath test, repeat. One time they gave me the full VIP treatment. I’d just left the supermarket with a backpack full of groceries, receipt and everything. Didn’t matter. The officer practically unpacked my dinner for me while giving me the kind of pat-down you’d expect at airport security. I was half convinced they were about to slip something into my bag instead of out of it. Fast forward to now, nothing. I haven’t seen a single roadblock in years. Maybe one or two in broad daylight if you’re lucky. And remember all those motorcycle kid gangs tearing it up around Din Daeng and Huay Kwang at 3 AM? Vanished. Like someone flipped a switch on Bangkok’s late-night chaos. What gives? Did the police get bored or are we living in a simulation glitch?

I’ve just returned from a (very) short gaycation on the tragic remains of Koh Phi Phi, last seen by me in the early 2000s when I was young, flexible, and hadn’t yet developed opinions about cutlery. Babes, I was not ready. Not emotionally, not physically, not spiritually. The second I step off the boat, I’m greeted by two shirtless twinks in knockoff Prada screaming “20 baht, 20 baht help protect island” like a pair of bankrupt drag queens selling raffle tickets at a Pride afterparty. Naturally, I paid. I’ll hand over cash to anyone who looks good sweaty. Call it a hobby. Later I found out from one of the local rent boys, let’s call him Minty, that none of that cash was going to protect anything. The island looked like a cheap wig left out in a hurricane. Trash everywhere. Broken boards. It was like Fyre Festival but with worse lighting. And the hassle. “Hey man where you go?” “Sexy man you need taxi boat?” “Taxi boat give you big fun.” I thought I’d fallen into some kind of cracked out gay immersive theatre. At one point I genuinely wondered if I was going to get bundled into a longtail boat and sold as a pool boy to a retired German leather daddy. Honestly? Tempting. But the trauma wasn’t over yet. I turn the corner, BAM, the golden arches. McDonald’s. Right there in front of me like the ghost of heterosexual mediocrity past. I almost projectile vomited into my limited edition Tom of Finland beach bag. If I wanted processed meat with dead eyes I’d go back to dating English bankers. Back in 2002 this place was paradise. Little beach shacks serving mystery noodles, gorgeous local boys serving mystery glances, and cocktails that could melt nail polish. Now? It’s credit card machines, influencer trash, and overpriced sadness. Want to swim? 600 baht. Want to pose for Instagram with a cocktail that tastes like floor cleaner? Another 600. Need to relieve yourself after that cocktail disaster? 10 baht to piss. I’ve paid less to get into orgies. And then, as if the gods were mocking me personally, the chanting began. Echoing through the humid air. No more pork, babes. I used to come here for a pork curry and a scandal. Now it’s just halal disappointment and unscented wet wipes. Somewhere deep in my memory I could hear the faint echo of my ex moaning through a mouthful of masaman. Not anymore. By the time I reached 7 Eleven I was broken. 20 baht for a water the size of my patience. Coffee prices that made me clutch my pearls so hard they almost shattered. And don’t get me started on the tourists. It was like Love Island exploded onto a rugby pitch and landed in my line of vision. Shirtless Essex lads, lips filled with filler, tattoos drawn by someone with a head injury, all posing like Greek gods but smelling like foot. Honestly, I haven’t seen that many bad haircuts since Eurovision 2007. Phi Phi, you are still beautiful, like an ageing cabaret singer with glitter in the wrinkles and vodka in her soul. Your beaches make me tingle. Your cliffs still make me hard. But the vibe is over. It’s tacky now. Cheap handbags in a posh shop. Pride parade with no DJ. Ibiza but with worse teeth. One more cockney accent and I’m flinging myself off a limestone cliff in nothing but a neon thong, shouting “Tell Cher I tried.” Rant over. The Dink.

You'll have to ask Andrew Dice Clay about that one. 😆

That's why I don’t understand the whole faggot thing. To me, that's common sense. I don't see how a guy lies on a beach sees another guy’s hairy a*s and says oh, I'll eat that. I gotta have that. I ain't leaving the beach till I see him. And they're too sensitive they don't know if they want to be called gays, homosexual, faires. I call them cocksuckers. I think it spells it out. What's the big debate about it? Yeah, they want their rights, I'll give them their rights, ten percent off vaseline now get the fu*k back in the closet. It's unbelievable. I can’t deal with it anymore. You have all kinds now. Not just the regular gays, it’s these trans testicles now. You ever put your hand down the pants of one of them, oh that's a nice Sunday surprise. Meet the girl of your dreams, wine and dine her, take her home, put your hand up her skirt, and you're holding a tree trunk. What do you say, hey for a chick you have some set of balls. And bisexual, let me explain something, there is no bisexual, no such thing. You either suck dick, or you do not suck dick. I mean, what are these guys? Do they get up in the morning and flip a coin? Heads I want hair pie, tails it's balls across the nose, oh. What a choice huh. I mean you never see a black guy being gay? How do you give a guy head from three blocks away and say I love you? Blacks are proud of their pensis, they hold onto it like someone is going to rip it off. You see me coming down the street, yeah. You know a lot of people says to me, Moby, why are you always holding your dick? Well, it wouldn’t be gentlemen to leave it dragging it on the ground behind me. And while you're at why don't you be a gentleman and unstop the toilet. And plunge the kitchen sink, it can always use it. The blacks know what I'm talking about. They know, throw it up here let me just show em.

Who knows. Some may like to create topics, but not read, and then many like to do nothing but troll, post rubbish and whinge.

You’ve been on ignore for months and that’s never going to change. No need to ask. This will be my last response, so go ahead and get the last word now if that helps you feel less fragile. The whole point of this back and forth was to hold a mirror up to your hypocrisy because clearly no one else has. But it’s obvious now you can’t handle even a bit of self introspection. Your posts are tedious to put it lightly, which is exactly why I put you on ignore ages ago. But your ego won’t let you see it. Good luck with that.