Groaning Tiger Hidden Dragon

Let's talk about porn.

Or at least my ISO and I were talking about it during the party. Good boys talk about the disastrous state of the economy and the Middle East. My ISO and me, we talk about the current state of porn.

Walk into any gay sex store abroad - of course not in conservative Malaysia! - and you'd find something peculiar. And I don't mean the oddly painful-looking cockrings. In between stacks of DVDs with appropriately salacious titles ranging from the Raiders of the Lost Arse to Lord of the G-Strings, you'd find a shocking dearth of Chinese gay porn.

Really. Look hard for the sons of the yellow emperor in the store and you won't find any.

Now why is that? Where are the joys of the cut sleeve and the bitten peach? For a vast country with at least half a billion boys - and a much-talked about history of randy emperors bedding a thousand and one concubines, I find it unusual that the Chinese are so surprisingly puritanical these days! Can't be from a lack of hunger for Asian meat since slender Thai pretty boys, humping Pinoy studs and scandalous Japanese athletes ( catering to all manner of indescribable fetishes! ) abound in the gay porn genre.

Surely there's a burgeoning market out there for Chinese gay porn?


No porn please. We're Chinese!
Seriously. Won't you be interested in Shaolin Studs in Kungfu Hustler or Enter the Dragon ( the uncensored version! )? Perhaps even deliciously sweaty gang members in Triad Erection I and II? Or what about the slightly amorous Outlaws of the Marsh where the banished heroes slaughter their adulterous wives and concubines only to make their escape to a mountain retreat where everything looks like a martial arts version of a gay resort.

And did anyone else think that in the movie Red Cliff, Zhou Yu had far more sexual chemistry with Zhuge Liang than his own wife? A sly homoerotic tension that even the historians in the past had captured in the phrase 瑜亮情结?

Zhou Yu : What are you doing in my bedchamber playing with the arrows? Have you come to shame me again by proving how sadly ineffective my stratagems are?
Zhuge Liang : Far from that, powerful warrior. You wrong me. Though I've collected a thousand for you, the only arrow I'd want to get shafted by is yours.
Zhou Yu : Only my arrow? Wouldn't you rather try my Fisting of Death?

I know. Lame conversation. But you can hardly expect two brawny studs with ginormous wangs to come up with witty one-liners! Half their blood supply's already left their brains by that time.

Gong Xi Par Tay!

You can imagine the surprise on my face when I woke up this morning to find out that I'm hosting a party.

Mom : Hey, what do you want for the party?
Paul : Party?
Mom : Yeah, the party you're throwing tonight.
Paul : I am throwing a party? How much did I drink last night?

Fortunately it turns out I hadn't lost my memory after a drunken bender that ended with me inviting bedraggled pubcrawlers to my place for a spree! The party was all my socialista mom's fault. Somehow in between a brief two-minute conversation with some friends, my mother managed to suggest, plan and invite a score of strangers to an impromptu new year dinner party.


Par-tay! My compliments to the hostess!
Ever since she was a child sighing over rainbows and stars, my mom has always held sugar-spun dreams of becoming the perfect social hostess throwing elegant soirees and dinner parties for the select crowd. Unfortunately her antisocial children preferred to consort with uncivilized ragamuffins who tended towards mamak cuisine rather than cucumber sandwiches.

Certainly doesn't serve to dampen my mother's bubbly enthusiasm for an instant party! Without receiving a yea or nay from me, she immediately delved into her Perfect Hostess Book to find the page on How to Throw a Surprise Party in Half a Day!

According to her, a convivial party with happy guests attracts good chi for the new year. I'm not inclined to disagree. So it was down with the green Christmas cheer and up with the flashy reds of New Year. Household makeover all in an hour.

And to think my ISO and I used to gatecrash parties in our horrid schooldays! Now I find myself so lazy to attend that my friends practically have to drive by in armed vehicles, tie me up and toss me in the trunk to drag me to their parties! Don't even talk about school reunions.

So you can imagine how I feel about hosting another :) So I called up my long missing-in-action ISO ( actually seconded to work elsewhere ) for advice.

Paul : You'd better come. Bring a dish.
My ISO : Come where?
Paul : My party tonight. You've been busy for months. Don't give bloody work as an excuse again.
My ISO : Heck, chances are I'd get laid off. Will a fruit basket do?
Paul : Make that five fruit baskets.

Well that covers the dessert.

Damn, three hours to go. And now for the main course. Does anyone know where I can find roasted chickens and tossed salads in a hurry?

Chasing the Lions

Reunions this time of the year is usually whirlwind of relatives, red packets and revelry - interspersed with the traditional fireworks and lion dances that signify the Chinese New Year. At least for me.

And though the ear-splitting din can be quite an irritant, I have to admit I actually miss having firecrackers around. At least for once a year, it does add to the near-crazed atmosphere! Recordings of the familiar sound just doesn't cut it. Fie to the anxious naywayers but I lit dozens of crackers in my time and never lost a shred of skin.

But bygones.

So this morning I got my seat on the upper storey of the coffeeshop with my niece and nephew, all eagerly awaiting the lion dance. Usually by the second day of the new year, we'd be busy hurrying back to the city already - but since we'd all taken an extra long break, we figured we'd stay around for this occasion at least.

Lori : Why are you sitting up here?
Paul : Waiting for the lion dance?
Lori : Gonna wait a real long time then. We haven't had them for years, babe.
Paul : WHAT?
Lori : Somehow never got around to calling them.
Paul : But that's serious bad juju! Misfortune!

Came as a shock to realize that we haven't had lion dances over in the coffeeshop
ever since my grandpa died. Has it been that long? Surely from some oversight ( and not from overweening sentimentality as you'd have thought ) since we actually had it annually as kids. Hardly a Chinese New Year went by without the lion dance storming down our front porch to climb up the steep ladder for the red packets dangling from the upper storeys. The sudden flash of red and yellow. The clash of the cymbals. The beat of the drums. The laughter of my cousins.


The lion takes a peek.
Seriously. No lion dance? How sacrilegious. My grandpa must be turning in his grave.

Suddenly struck with nostalgia, Lispy Lori and I decided to go hunting for lions in the neighbourhood to lead home. All armed with a pocketful of newly minted cash fresh from the red packets. Barely completed two blocks when we heard the familiar crash of cymbals and drums heralding the lion's appearance. Hurried to the shop at the corner only to find the lion already up the pole to the first floor in search of its treasure.

As usual amongst the lion dance troupe, there's always one delicious hottie, all tall, tanned and toned. Must be all that hopping, jumping and leaping in the sun. Certainly builds up a really nice ass.

Let's not even talk about the biceps from all that endless drumming.

So you can tell which one I actually approached to come by that afternoon.

Paul : Come over to my place when you're done.
Hottie : No problem, sir. Right after I finish my performance here.
Paul : Oh you're looking really good. How much by the hour?
Hottie : Up to you guys to decide.
Paul : I'm sure you'll be worth every bang for the buck. If you perform really well, I'll throw in a special tip just for you.
Hottie : Yes, sir!

Unfortunately he had to be all of an oblivious innocent 17. And also my cousin Richie Runt's schoolmate. So I deferred my plans of shoving dollars into his black pants.

And brought back a lion.

Signs and Portents

Tomahto. Tomayto.

The people in the island up north claim it's thrift. Everyone else smirks, points and calls it stinginess.

Had a brief taste of it just today when I went for my usual walkabout of the inner city. Where else would you have people ordering extra thick coffee only to dilute it with plain water to make two cups? Where else would you have folks bringing their own eggs to add to the fried noodles to avoid paying extra?

And today you had a girl who poured the coffee from the buffet table into her flask.

Paul : Maybe you'd like to take the tea as well?
Girl : Oh I don't take tea.

Seriously. Sarcasm is wasted on the lackwits.

Fortunately my family's not in the least like that. Despite the fact that all economic portents indicate a bad time ahead, my family still splurges on the annual reunion dinner.


I foresee difficult times ahead.
The great depression of this century might be here already but that doesn't stop us from having one final bash before the credit crunch. So bring out the red, light the fake crackers and strike those cymbals since we're all gonna need some prosperity this year!

Funny thought I had. Traditionally a married couple would go to the man's side of the family for the reunion dinner. So what happens if the couple's gay? Do they toss a coin?

Mahjong Romance

Seriously. Like the things you find out at a family reunion!

Never expected to find out such a thing about my soccer mom aunt but hello, it seems that in her wild days, she had more than her share of parting, drinking and gambling.

Even more than her own wild daughter, Rebellious Reina.

Hell, she even met her future hubby gambling.

Odd since we've never had mahjong sets at home. Since my surprisingly puritanical grandfather was against gambling in any form ( possibly seeing many a good man fall prey to the evils ), she was expressly forbidden to take up mahjong tiles. So as a form of adolescent rebellion, my aunt turned into a mahjong queen at the behest of her mean queen galpals.

And during one of her casino nights, she met her husband.


Care to pong with me?
Romance over a mahjong table. Playing pussyfoot under the tiles. Obviously there's something terribly sensual about chickens, bamboos and circles - since somehow or other between pongs and gossip, she managed to land a husband amongst the players.

You can imagine how the rest of my cousins stared.

Like eew. Isn't that like a Lust Caution page straight out of an 1920s Shanghai serial?