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79
Woman Mauled by Pit Bull Cross She Adopted From Shelter
Perhaps the community should take it upon themselves to do a good deed for society at large. Take the beast out. -
120
Why, Oh Why: has the Left turned on Elon? No more gravy-train?
How do you know what Putin thinks....has he told you.... or did you read it in the MSM? -
7
Scouting Pattaya for a Potential Long-Term Base – Welcome Any Leads
Simply brilliant, @newnative! Appreciate also learning about your journey from the sea view 1BR condo to your spacious villa, and your big-picture assessment of Pattaya. We've got some exciting research ahead. We will aim to stay in Wongamat and assess the area. Particularly keen to identify any walkable neighborhoods and to compare the beach to other beaches around Thailand. All the best! -
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37
2nd Shingles vaccine in Bangkok?
You are right the package does say 6 months, but she definitely said 6-12 -
82
A true story about an old pal of mine.
Way back in my glitter-queen party days, when I first flounced into Thailand with a suitcase full of mesh tops and questionable dildos, I ended up on The Islands — a place where morals went to die and everyone was either queer, high, hot, or all the above. Now girls, back then the islands were like a gay fever dream. You could get anything your little heart desired. Party favours, jungle juice, boys named Peachy — it was like a Pride float crashed into a pharmacy. I met a hottie there — let’s call him Vito the Diva. He was from my neck of the woods and we bonded instantly over shared trauma and a mutual appreciation for coconut oil and chaos. We became inseparable. But while I kept it classy with vodka Red Bulls and emotionally unavailable bartenders, Vito was into these little pink tabs that sparkled like sin and could be smoked in a pipe shaped like a penis. I wasn’t judging, but I did keep one foot out the door in case the Feds showed up with latex gloves and questions. Cut to one night at 4:30 in the morning, I get a call. Vito had been arrested for possession of his sparkly treats. They wanted to know if I could help with bail — one hundred thousand baht. Babes, at that time I didn’t even have two sequins to rub together. I was couch-surfing between sugar daddies and living off minibar peanuts. So I had to say no, and apparently the police had taken his passport too, probably because they fancied the photo. Nearly a week passed. I assumed poor Vito was rotting in some humid hellhole eating rice and staring at his todger. But then a mutual friend — let’s call him Glitter Greg — told me Vito had scraped together the funds, posted bail, and was out. Court date set, wig intact. But then the plot twisted harder than a RuPaul lip-sync. A few days later, Greg whispered that Vito had somehow escaped Thailand altogether. No passport, no documents, no dignity left, and yet he made it across the border into Cambodia and into a “safe house” which I assume had throw pillows and blackout curtains. From there he flounced into the embassy, got an emergency travel document, and sashayed all the way back home. He messaged me once — mysterious, cryptic, very “Jason Bourne in heels” — but refused to spill the tea on how he pulled it off. All he said was, “A lady never tells.” Fifteen years have passed. Last I heard, Vito found Jesus, got married, and lives a quiet life somewhere rural where the gays wear cargo shorts and don’t speak of the past. But I’ve always wondered — how the hell did he cross into Cambodia with no passport? Was there a special wink wink and a wad of baht under the table? A flirtation with a border guard? A bribe in a jockstrap? Or did he trade his back door for an entry? If anyone else has been in a similar situation or knows how he might’ve pulled off this great escape, do spill. I’m still dying to know what he did — and more importantly, who he did it with. Yours in mystery and marabou, The Dink.
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