Shower Your Head

Amidst much fanfare, thanks to a very well-organised marketing and promotional plan, BravingKL officially welcomes Mandi Manda as the newest member to be listed on the KL sauna directory.

Armed with an impressive line-up of features (among those that stood out was ‘private cabins’) and broadcasting unmistakably overly-pompous and courageous value propositions (such as KL’s new playground for the boys and men’s cruise spa regenerated), anticipation and expectations inevitably shot sky-high.

Perhaps a tad too high.

“We have actually run out of lockers,” exclaimed the front-desk staff. The first day’s turn-out was grossly under-estimated, and many customers who arrived two hours after opening time had to pack their belongings in little travel bags instead.

A quick inspection on the facilities spread across the 3 floors rapidly sent hopes and wishes tumbling down. This new sauna was undeniably new, but here is a list of things it was not:

"Luxurious Seated Rain Baths"
With rough unfinished cement floor and partitions, flimsy-looking shower curtains, now-you-get-it-now-you-don’t hot water, and a miserable bottle of shower gel that was almost running out, the only thing luxurious about the showers was perhaps the volume of water gushing out from the shower heads above, which was strategically placed to effortlessly bring distraught to your perfectly gelled hair. With the absence of an open shower area, the exhibitionist in you who are dying to show off your bubbly bums after a month’s worth of sweat in the gym would be grossly disappointed with the lack of deserving exposure. What about seated bath you ask? I think that equally rough and unfinished slab of raised cement (which was where the shower gel was placed, and was collecting undrained foamy residues from previous occupants) was meant as a seat.

"Multimedia Lounge"
In a roomy area with rough unfinished cement floor and walls (you get the idea), come bore yourself watching the 88th rerun of Great Vacation Homes served on a plasma screen that is permanently programmed to air Astro’s Travel and Living channel. Hang out a bit longer to complete the sight and sound with snores from tired uncles sleeping on the sofas, and peels of laughter from fellow sisters who have found themselves a nice spot to congregate at the walkway outside the lounge for the lack of a better location. Truly the ultimate multimedia experience.

"Private Cabins"
The cabins are indeed a sight to behold. Placed in each of the tiny rooms built with rough unfinished cement floor and walls (ok ok, you get the idea) is the most awe-inspiring piece of furniture ever seen since IKEA opened its door in 1 Utama many years ago. It would be perfectly normal if found in beauty centers offering facial skincare treatment, massage and body slimming courses, but this thick
piece of single-sized mattress punched with a hole right where the face should go and raised to impossible heights with four long steel legs, looks comically out of place in a world where hormones rage and cum stains conquer. Acrophobics should think twice before climbing onto one of these with their new-found meat.

"Group Activity Room"
Two decent-sized rooms which are equally empty, stuffy, a tad too bright and expectedly, deserted. Mosquitoes have group activities here, indeed.

"GH Room"
I know for sure it does not stand for General Hospital.

"Café"
Another piece of equally awe-inspiring furniture can be found here. Savaged from the remains of Restaurant Mamak Abu Bakar down the street which had just closed down two weeks ago, this steel monster, its shiny shelves, compartments and all, conjures too much memories of its previous existence. “Boss, magee goreng satu!” Oops, I meant to say, “Is that cup of hot tea free of charge?”

Welcome to the family, Mandi Manda.

Mirage Is Reopening Soon?

The sauna community is abuzz again with confirmation from eye witnesses relating personal accounts of recent visits to Mirage that hinted of what appeared to be renovation works progressing within the compounds of this sauna. A short visit to the now virtually deserted carpark area revealed a new signboard proudly announcing its presence, something that seemed completely unnecessary given Mirage’s unrivalled fame and reputation. The façade has been given a much-needed new coat of paint, and a mysterious set of door has sprung up besides the old entrance, which is now bearing a piece of A4 paper, proclaiming that Mirage will reopen in December.

And we have reached the last day of this month?

Dear God,

(to be read in one breath)

In the new year to come, please give me the courage to resist the overly addictive lure of physical gratifications afforded by the numerous dim corridors, misty steam rooms, dark mazes and tiny private rooms around town, but blind my vision to the true agenda of guys who roam them; please rescue my tired soul from the constant overly-undiscriminating need to seek attention and affection to prove my worth and justify my existence, and rescue any unsuspecting men whom I have brought grievances and sorrow to in the process; please enlighten me on the true meaning of the illusive word LOVE, but bring me oblivion on hurtful remarks, selfish gestures, and cruel intentions; please help me treasure the beautiful moments and wonderful people that I have been blessed with, but let me leave behind periods of withdrawals, self-doubts and self-denials.

Amen.

A Very Hearty Meal

Suria KLCC recently welcomed Little Penang to its line-up of F&B tenants. Highlights on the menu include, for the price of RM9.90 (excluding taxes), the Penang Nasi Lemak, that comes with a giant smack of mushy rice ball and unidentified lumps of this and that, served on a disproportionately-sized giant white plate.

Let's all welcome Little Penang and hope that the various inadequacies that befell its ill-fated previous tenant, House of Noodle, shall remain a thing of the past, history, departed for good, vanished into thin air, zipped.

Sungai Wang Snow Fight Turned Ugly

Click for a super low-res, grainy and shaky video capture of the Christmas eve snow fight in Sungai Wang, featuring:

• Horny Ah Bengs attacking unsuspecting passers-by (mostly Ah Lians) with confetti and synthetic snow spray.
• Unruly Ah Bengs spraying synthetic snow on windscreens of passing vehicles and raising the wipers at the same time to avoid premature removal of their work of art.
• Angry Ah Bengs ganging up to attack a motorcyclist who had forced his way through the spill of crowd from sidewalks onto the road.
• Uncultured Ah Bengs cursing in Hokkien four-letter words equivalent as a mean to express excitement for being a part of this grand celebration, never mind that they are all Buddhists and had absolutely no blinking idea how to even spell the word 'Christmas' correctly.
  
  

The KL Pink Districts: Old Klang Road

Click on image for larger view

• Kuala Lumpur celebrates the arrival of the latest pink district to hit town: Old Klang Road, with the opening of Mandi Manda sauna.
• Previous related postings: Shower Your Head
  

Dear Tae,

The moment our eyes met, I had to confess it was just like any other encounters that I had had. That first day of my trip, that first visit to the sauna on this trip, and that first venture into the maze during this sauna visit, it was all it took to lead me to you, didn’t matter how it all fell into place. Perhaps you have been standing there for time immemorial, or perhaps it was just fate.

The moment our lips met, I confess again it was just like any other kisses that I had had. Against the faint light of the lightly-scented private room, Christmas carols playing in the background and all, I grasped, in vain, for a piece of memory that would stood out, only to find them drown in a hundred and one similarly bland episodes of foreplay and climax. Perhaps it was just me, and my expectations, exhausted from the constant replays of hope and disappointments.

But you pushed further, beyond the four walls of the tiny, freezing room, beyond the obligatory brief hug before leaving the room and beyond the soaping session in the open showers. I was waiting to say “Take care and see you around” but the only time you left was to fetch me some drinks that were being served free from the dining area.

In the sofa area by the pool, I fought hard to keep your relentless spirit at bay, only to find my defenses unarmed and my protective shell stripped. Suddenly the other guys seemed to have lost their appeal, was that the moment our hearts met?

That night in DJ Station, it was the tenth time Madonna’s new track spinned. You held me in your arms and asked if you could see me again. I meant to say this was not how I had planned my 10-day trip, but did I just kiss you instead?

So the emotional chaos intensified out of proportion and to my dismay you became a permanent feature of my trip. On our way back from the Floating Market, you pulled me to rest my head on your laps in the van, as I looked up to your face I tried to focus on how you had carelessly swept your hair over your forehead, but caught sight of your dreamy eyes instead. When you rushed over from your office to meet me at MBK, I noted the sorry state of your shoes and your briefcase and thought I could not survive another look at that, but I also noted the drenched shirt and wet forehead from the run in the sun, and how your face broke into a smile when you saw me. At the local market where I accompanied you for lunch, I convinced myself I needed too much adjustment for us to appreciate the same things together, then you hummed me that recent Thai pop that had stucked to my head for many months.

I tried my best not to think of you, I think I tried to hard.

And so we found ourselves at the hotel lobby, the last day of my trip. I did not tell you my heart was aching for a farewell hug and kiss. (My Thai needs improving, I know.) You said “I miss me.” I think you really meant “I miss you.” It turned out to be the simplest and shortest of goodbyes, but I recalled the longest climb up the staircase to my hotel room. My last sight of you standing by the lobby entrance reluctant to leave, got played again and again in my head, and then my feet became increasingly heavy as I took yet another step upwards, yet another little distance further away from you, away from the memories of time spent with you, away from your eyes, your lips and your heart.

I heard it was colder than usual after I left, it rained quite abit here in KL too. This message that you sent me, I promise to keep it in my phone.

"The raining heavily there in kuala lumpur. It is cold here to bangkok. How far ? But i miss you."

Nevermind the English, I got you.

But where do we go from here?

BRAVEHEART ^[94]

Mirage Is Back?

Just as sudden as its closure, words have it that Mirage has miraculously reopened. While I am still stucked trying to fight the disbelief, you may want to drop by and verify this piece of news.

And let me know if you managed to gain any insight into the excuse given for the previous display of seemingly utter disrespect for its customers, however remotely convincing/believable it may seem.

A Map of Indulgence: Kakiku

With its trademark odd angles, blind corners and mindless, useless empty spaces, Kakiku is the epitome of the effects of poor planning and lack of customer insight. What an awful waste of space.

Mandi Manda Is Coming To Town

Time to open up the locked private rooms, Kakiku.

Memoirs Of An Agogo Boy

How could I forget my first taste of alcohol. Amidst blinding spotlights, deafening disco music, and the smoke-choked bar, I thought it helped lessen the nervousness of facing a hundred pairs of eyes packed in sofas and chairs surrounding me, scrutinising every inch of my body that was now clad in just a white underwear, as I swayed awkwardly on stage to the beat. Underneath the thin sheet of material was my artificially stimulated member, veiny and almost ready to spring into instant action. It seemed I had got used to the constant piercing pain of restricted blood flow cause by the cock ring, and was actually ready to show my potential buyer a few naughty moves, or a seductive smile, or an innocent giggle, if that would catch his fancy. And then I checked again to make sure that the card announcing my number was securely pinned to my undies.

How could I forget the stunt we used to put up. Jerking off used to be more fun back then, but it was done now (complete with boy scouts uniforms and cowboy hats) as proof of our assets for careful consideration of the observers, as a form of entertainment in the name of survival, and as a testimony that the performer had now been reduced to mere machines and tools to satisfy every possible desire and fantasy of those who were willing to spend on us. And then when I was ready to cum, I would raise my left hand, walk out of the line and as the crowd cheered, prayed that it would be a less flustered climax the next day.

How could I forget the long wait for my first customer. Those endless replays of joining the parade on stage followed by the inevitable solitary existence on rows of chair packed with eager boys while we sit and waited (normally in vain) for Mama to return with good news that a customer had picked our numbers. It was a startling realisation of a life where battles were fought over precious attention and admiration, a potpourri of gossips, lies, deception and betrayal. There were simply too many of us against too little of the customers who came in hope of fulfilment of a night’s worth of fantasy role-play, rather than to attend an eye-opening, once-in-a-lifetime performance.

How could I then forget the first time I got fucked. He was a businessman, late 40s, balding, beer belly but I remembered having my fascination fed off his gold watch, diamond ring and designer suites. So I told him he looked dashing, and he tore my clothes off like a vulture freed from starvation. Every thrust tore my guts but helped feed my family back home; every submission shattered my pride but restored education and dignity to my deserving siblings; every wound healed to a scar but brought hope to an otherwise bleak future. At times when the pain became too excruciating to bear, I had flashbacks of my childhood life and I thought I was given the chance to relive that again, and then he climaxed and collapsed on my body.

The mirror ball seemed to be revolving abit faster tonight. My eyes kept getting blinded momentarily from the light that bounced off it. I think I had never swayed so well, ever. On the agogo stage, just like the stage of life, it meant the world to break apart. For now, however, I would just close my eyes and enjoy the music.

And then I would wait for Mama to call my number again.