The Standard Conversation
I've been nursing a theory for awhile now that people who work in call centers will take to the girlie-bar scene really, really well, mostly because there are very deliberate snippets of dialogue that all of these girls use consistently. The opening conversation, after the hi's and hello's, is usually thus:
GIRL: San kayo umuuwi? (Where do you go home?)
GUY: ** state a random location. ** My usual responses include: "Sa 2nd floor ng Stardust" (Stardust's second floor), "Wala, natutulog lang ako sa office" (Nowhere, I just sleep at the office), or if I'm feeling like a wise-ass, "Sa bahay" (At a house)
GIRL: Ilang taon ka na? (How old are you?)
GUY: ** pull number out of ass ** My usual response: "Hulaan mo" (Guess.), followed by the obvious question of old she is.
Generally speaking, the response you give during these first two exchanges will define the tone for the rest of your evening. Veterans will usually have a handful of different responses; newbies will usually reply with real answers. I've learned to stretch these first two questions out to a 15-minute conversation almost -- it's a special skill you absorb from the leatherette.
There are also a bunch of other bits of dialogue that you need to watch out for:
1. "Nilalamig ako!" (I'm cold!)
When a girl first said this to me, I got up and turned the A/C down. What a chump. When a girl says this it usually means it's ok for you to put your arms around them, or give them a hug, or (in some rare cases), place your big, warm hands over their semi-exposed bosom. (Wouldn't want them to catch a cold, after all.)
2. "3 months pa lang ako dito" (I've only been working here for 3 months)
For some reason, 90% of the girls I've tabled tell me this, as if I would value them less if they tell me they've been working in that club for over a decade. (Ok, fine, maybe I would.)
When talking about some of their other regular guests:
3. "Pero mas gusto naman kita dun!" (But of course I like you a lot more than that guy!)
When observing the general crowd:
4. "Yak, parang andaming manyak!" (Yuck, they all look like pervs!)
This is a thinly-veiled attempt at getting you to stay longer, in order to rescue them from having to be tabled by perverts.
When you're about to leave:
5. "Ba't ganun, di ka pa umaalis, namimiss na kita!" (You haven't even left yet, and I already miss you!)
Via SMS, a variation of #5:
6. "Mizhu beh!"
This one's a real classic, because it works so well. Short of saying that you're wet and waiting, there's not much else a girl can say that'll bring the guys running than a heartfelt (albeit txt-mangled) "I miss you, baby!"
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Monday, June 4, 2007
Top of Gold Anecdote
Top of Gold is one of the newer clubs in the Quezon Ave/Timog Ave area. I don't really have time for a full story right now, but I just wanted to relate a very strange conversation I had with Paula, one of their star girls there.
Paula is not a super-pretty girl; by TOG standards, she's fairly plain. She makes up for this by being aggressive to the point of being scary when on-stage. She's the only bar-girl I've ever seen who dances to pre-Black album Metallica, and she's the only performer in TOG who could do any vagina tricks.
So I was sitting there having a beer with her and enjoying the fact that there was absolutely nothing I could say to this girl that she would be freaked out by. (Technically speaking, any bar-girl will have a much higher threshold for impolite conversation than a random girl-off-the-street, but I've learned from experience that there are a whole bunch of different things that you don't want to be discussing with them.) Within a few minutes we were talking about what her first time felt like, her favorite sexual positions, what she does with her regular guests, etc. Then I asked her what kind of tattoo she had, which traditionally is how you get a bar-girl to flash you.
Imagine my surprise when she replied, "Yuck noh, wala ako nun." (Yuck, I don't have one of those.)
To which I asked, "Ows? Baket naman?" (Really? Why not?)
"Parang andumi tignan e." (It looks dirty.)
It's hard to appreciate how strange a statement this is unless you actually saw Paula in action during big nights. This was a girl who smoked cigarettes and squirted beer from her vagina, danced naked with a python wrapped around her arms and waist, gave guests blowjobs in the dressing room ... and yet apparently thought tattoos were dirty. I might be overthinking the situation too much, but it does seem to imply that bar-girls can in fact be sexually adventurous without being particularly daring anywhere else. (On the other hand, maybe she just has a fear of needles.)
I've personally known bar-girls who lug Harry Potter books along to the showroom with them to pass the time (CJ from Stardust), or whose idea of a good night was a warm cup of mami and a good DVD (Kate from TOG). (I mean, that's boring even by my standards.) The likely explanation is that they go to the opposite side of the spectrum when they're outside of the bars to kinda balance out their lives. But I digress.
Catch Paula in action at TOG on Fridays or Saturday nights (depending on the size of the crowd). Just don't sit too close to the stage.
Paula is not a super-pretty girl; by TOG standards, she's fairly plain. She makes up for this by being aggressive to the point of being scary when on-stage. She's the only bar-girl I've ever seen who dances to pre-Black album Metallica, and she's the only performer in TOG who could do any vagina tricks.
So I was sitting there having a beer with her and enjoying the fact that there was absolutely nothing I could say to this girl that she would be freaked out by. (Technically speaking, any bar-girl will have a much higher threshold for impolite conversation than a random girl-off-the-street, but I've learned from experience that there are a whole bunch of different things that you don't want to be discussing with them.) Within a few minutes we were talking about what her first time felt like, her favorite sexual positions, what she does with her regular guests, etc. Then I asked her what kind of tattoo she had, which traditionally is how you get a bar-girl to flash you.
Imagine my surprise when she replied, "Yuck noh, wala ako nun." (Yuck, I don't have one of those.)
To which I asked, "Ows? Baket naman?" (Really? Why not?)
"Parang andumi tignan e." (It looks dirty.)
It's hard to appreciate how strange a statement this is unless you actually saw Paula in action during big nights. This was a girl who smoked cigarettes and squirted beer from her vagina, danced naked with a python wrapped around her arms and waist, gave guests blowjobs in the dressing room ... and yet apparently thought tattoos were dirty. I might be overthinking the situation too much, but it does seem to imply that bar-girls can in fact be sexually adventurous without being particularly daring anywhere else. (On the other hand, maybe she just has a fear of needles.)
I've personally known bar-girls who lug Harry Potter books along to the showroom with them to pass the time (CJ from Stardust), or whose idea of a good night was a warm cup of mami and a good DVD (Kate from TOG). (I mean, that's boring even by my standards.) The likely explanation is that they go to the opposite side of the spectrum when they're outside of the bars to kinda balance out their lives. But I digress.
Catch Paula in action at TOG on Fridays or Saturday nights (depending on the size of the crowd). Just don't sit too close to the stage.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Grand Amihan
Did I mention that most clubs have dress codes? It occurred to me last night that of the 3 dozen or so excursions I'd been on, I had always been dressed in the clothes I wore to the office (i.e., button-down shirt, slacks and dress shoes). Yesterday was slightly different: I had just bought myself a new pair of Ipanema flip-flops, and was otherwise dressed in a plain t-shirt and jeans. Of course, this proved to have been a slight misstep, as none of the bars along Quezon Avenue would let us in. Granted, my two friends were in walking shorts, so we didn't exactly look like a trio of well-to-do citizens, if you know what I mean. I suppose it could be said that a combination of shorts, slippers and the fact that none of us were well-known rock stars was definitely going to cause problems gaining access to any of these places.
In short order, we attempted to get into 1) Heartbeat, Quezon Avenue, 2) Club Caxiopeia near Delta, 3) Marinara back near Stardust and 4) Catwalk beside it -- none of which would let us in. Catwalk was particularly laughable: if I had had any alcohol in me, I could've easily told the girl at the door off: "What do you mean you don't allow slippers? You fucking tool, my slippers are more expensive than your entire motherfucking outfit!"
After the rejection at Catwalk, we pretty much gave up on the entire Quezon Avenue area and started driving towards Timog. Now, as of mid-May 2007, there are only really two night-clubs left along Timog: one is this hole-in-the-wall called Skylark, and the other is a joint that's been around since the dawn of time -- Grand Amihan. (Eve's Venom -- the only other option -- finally gave up the ghost a few weeks back, as we all expected it would.) And as you can guess from the title of this entry, we didn't go with the Skylark option. Boy, was that ever a mistake.
Grand Amihan is a solid notch below any club I've ever been to. It had no A/C, used plastic chairs and tables, reeked of spilled beer, and just overall had the ambience of being the kind of place one should be ashamed to be in. (Clearly, it was: aside from us, there was only one other guest.)
As soon as we sat down, I honestly wanted to leave. We were about three feet away from a plywood stage where a girl who looked like she was in her late-20's (a dinosaur by night-club standards) was swaying glumly to Bon Jovi. What really bothered me though was how her nightie was sticking to her skin; she was sweating bullets up there, and not in a sexy way. After two really uncomfortable numbers, she walked off and was replaced by the Grand Amihan equivalent of a showroom. Basically, every girl in the joint (all 8 of them) gets up on stage and sways there for 5 minutes until a) they're chosen by a guest or b) the DJ runs out of subtly-sensual R&B songs to play.
This was a particularly awkward moment for me, seeing as the other guest already had a girl with him, and all the girls were looking right at us.
To be fair, they weren't all ugly. There was actually this one girl who looked like Zhang ZiYi if she had been raised in Tondo and made to work in an RTW factory. And this other girl who kinda reminded me of Judy Ann Santos. That's not to say that I would've picked either of them, because the simple fact was: we were in friggin' Grand Amihan, ladies and gents.
As I was sitting there appreciating the strangeness of this whole spectacle, an FM came over and asked me if I saw anyone I liked. Out of pure reflex (I swear), I said, "Depends ... how much does it cost?"
Now, before I tell you what she told me, I want to first qualify this by saying that it was very noisy at the time, and I wasn't close enough to hear her very well. It sounded to me like she said either "195 pesos for a ladies' drink," or (god forbid) "ninety-five pesos."
Given what we know about clubs at this point, can you make a guess how much a girl makes out of 195 pesos per hour? Yeah, about enough to buy a Burger McDo. With this thought milling around in my head, I informed the FM that we'd think about it, and then got up and walked off to the restroom. On my way out, I saw Zhang ZiYi sitting in the dark by herself, looking right at me. In my mind's eye, she was pleading, "Will you save me from this horrible, horrible place? Please?"
Thoroughly shaken by the thought, I made my way back to our table and asked for the bill. Unsurprisingly, the beer was cheaper here than in your average Bar & Grill: we paid a grand total of PhP190 pesos for six bottles. Ugh.
In short order, we attempted to get into 1) Heartbeat, Quezon Avenue, 2) Club Caxiopeia near Delta, 3) Marinara back near Stardust and 4) Catwalk beside it -- none of which would let us in. Catwalk was particularly laughable: if I had had any alcohol in me, I could've easily told the girl at the door off: "What do you mean you don't allow slippers? You fucking tool, my slippers are more expensive than your entire motherfucking outfit!"
After the rejection at Catwalk, we pretty much gave up on the entire Quezon Avenue area and started driving towards Timog. Now, as of mid-May 2007, there are only really two night-clubs left along Timog: one is this hole-in-the-wall called Skylark, and the other is a joint that's been around since the dawn of time -- Grand Amihan. (Eve's Venom -- the only other option -- finally gave up the ghost a few weeks back, as we all expected it would.) And as you can guess from the title of this entry, we didn't go with the Skylark option. Boy, was that ever a mistake.
Grand Amihan is a solid notch below any club I've ever been to. It had no A/C, used plastic chairs and tables, reeked of spilled beer, and just overall had the ambience of being the kind of place one should be ashamed to be in. (Clearly, it was: aside from us, there was only one other guest.)
As soon as we sat down, I honestly wanted to leave. We were about three feet away from a plywood stage where a girl who looked like she was in her late-20's (a dinosaur by night-club standards) was swaying glumly to Bon Jovi. What really bothered me though was how her nightie was sticking to her skin; she was sweating bullets up there, and not in a sexy way. After two really uncomfortable numbers, she walked off and was replaced by the Grand Amihan equivalent of a showroom. Basically, every girl in the joint (all 8 of them) gets up on stage and sways there for 5 minutes until a) they're chosen by a guest or b) the DJ runs out of subtly-sensual R&B songs to play.
This was a particularly awkward moment for me, seeing as the other guest already had a girl with him, and all the girls were looking right at us.
To be fair, they weren't all ugly. There was actually this one girl who looked like Zhang ZiYi if she had been raised in Tondo and made to work in an RTW factory. And this other girl who kinda reminded me of Judy Ann Santos. That's not to say that I would've picked either of them, because the simple fact was: we were in friggin' Grand Amihan, ladies and gents.
As I was sitting there appreciating the strangeness of this whole spectacle, an FM came over and asked me if I saw anyone I liked. Out of pure reflex (I swear), I said, "Depends ... how much does it cost?"
Now, before I tell you what she told me, I want to first qualify this by saying that it was very noisy at the time, and I wasn't close enough to hear her very well. It sounded to me like she said either "195 pesos for a ladies' drink," or (god forbid) "ninety-five pesos."
Given what we know about clubs at this point, can you make a guess how much a girl makes out of 195 pesos per hour? Yeah, about enough to buy a Burger McDo. With this thought milling around in my head, I informed the FM that we'd think about it, and then got up and walked off to the restroom. On my way out, I saw Zhang ZiYi sitting in the dark by herself, looking right at me. In my mind's eye, she was pleading, "Will you save me from this horrible, horrible place? Please?"
Thoroughly shaken by the thought, I made my way back to our table and asked for the bill. Unsurprisingly, the beer was cheaper here than in your average Bar & Grill: we paid a grand total of PhP190 pesos for six bottles. Ugh.
Friday, June 1, 2007
Stardust
I personally do not know of any male my age from Quezon City who has not set foot inside Stardust at least once in their lives, but for those anomalous few: Stardust is a KTV club along Quezon Avenue, right smack in the middle of several other KTVs and massage parlors of varying degrees of quality. The entire strip of Quezon Avenue is generally regarded to be the red-light district of North Metro Manila, and as such, competition in the area is fairly high. Now, I happen to have a special sentimental attachment to Stardust because it was the first club I ever entered, and it's also the place that opened my eyes to the various intricacies of the girlie-bar world. (So if there's a smidgen of bias over the next few paragraphs, that's my official excuse.)
Pricing
GRO: PhP400/hour
Model: PhP560/hour
Solo: PhP800/hour*
Stardust's per-hour rate is traditionally based around drinks. PhP800 will get a solo girl a very large glass of very watered-down beer, which they will sip through a straw for about an hour while listening to you make an ass of yourself. If you're feeling particularly generous, you can spring for a PhP1200 mixed drink (I forget what's in it, but it's called a California). Theoretically this will soften your girl up quite a bit, not just because it's less watered-down, but also because she makes more money for her time. Like bus drivers, these girls' daily wage is based completely on commissions of about 15%-20% for each ladies drink she receives. Essentially that means that a California represents PhP240 to them, while a regular beer only represents PhP160.
Of course, these girls aren't the only ones drinking. Guests' beers -- real ones, in bottles -- will run you about PhP80 each, which isn't exactly cheap (although in the grand scheme of things, it's just slightly above the average). There's also a PhP200 consumable cover charge at the door. The beer pricing is interesting actually, because this is the primary way that these bars recoup costs from guests who don't table. On any given night, you will see only about half of the tables in Stardust with girls in them; the other half will be nursing beers and watching the show.
Additionally, VIP rooms at Stardust cost between PhP1,200 and PhP3,000, consumable for guests' drinks and food. (In other words, you can eat and drink as much as you want, but ladies' drinks are still charged separately.) It's very easy to forget this when you're locked in a room with a girl's breasts on your forehead, so keep that in mind. I've been slapped down with some fairly hefty bills this way, and all I can say is, thank God I was too drunk to argue at the time.
The Show
Although it is impossible to properly rate and rank these things (I'd have to be there every night to judge consistency), I would say that Stardust's floor shows are one of the best you can find in the Quezon City area. The Friday ones are particularly killer -- apart from the usual solos and models, there are beer tricks, lesbian coupling and a big 50%-off auction at midnight. As a result, it's usually a real bitch to find a table on Friday night, so I do not recommend going there past 11pm.
The Girls
Stardust has a fairly wide gamut of girls. I've never determined how many regular girls they actually have, but given that their showroom is 7 rows deep, 50 seems like a conservative estimate. Stardust girls will usually go on-stage with numbers pinned to their underwear so you can ask the FM about them at your leisure.
Ironically, I have only had direct experiences with two of those 50 girls, although there's one other one, Donita, who is worth visiting simply because she looks very much like a certain STI endorser. ("Donita" is not her real name of course, but if you happen to ask the FMs, they'll know who you're talking about.)
Stardust is the first and only club I've ever gone to without at least one other friend with me, and this was back when I was still a bit of a rookie. One of the FMs, "Lara," had to sit with me for almost half-an-hour while I hemmed and hawed about tabling. This was punctuated by two trips to the showroom; both times I honestly could not find anyone interesting. After a lot of unnecessary small-talk, I finally just asked her to bring me whoever she thought was good. Five minutes later, she comes back with a girl named "Kris" on her arm, and all was good in the world.
Now that I look back on that night, I realize that Lara was possibly the only FM I ever met who recommended the top-end girls instead of the girls that were (I guess you could say) second-tier selections. One of the FMs' jobs is to make sure that inventory is moved in the most efficient manner, which generally means that if they can get away with it, they will give you the unpopular girls first. (This has happened to me enough times in enough places that I have actually gotten quite used to it.)
So yeah, as you can imagine, Kris was totally solo quality. Fair skin, pouty lips, expressive eyes, and -- at the risk of offending my predominantly female readership -- a very fine rack. Of course, that was all before she spoke. Kris was, as became apparent within the first two seconds of being introduced to her, a native of Bacolod, and her accent was quite typical of the region. Now, I don't generally care about accents that much, but let's just say it's difficult to get really hot and heavy with someone when they talk like the fuckin' laundrywoman.
That's not to say that I didn't get anything going though. Being a warm-blooded male in his mid-20's, I forged bravely ahead regardless. It was my first time alone in this adult Disneyland, and I went on to spend the next two hours momoling* the crap out of Kris in a VIP room the size of a large water closet. (Unfortunately I never had the guts to go beyond that, as I had promised myself I wouldn't stay longer than 2 hours no matter what.)
On hindsight though, it was totally within the realm of possibility that I could've gone all the way to the gimik phase with her if I had had the stones to ask. (And by that, I mean, without paying for it.) I'm not a super-attractive guy by anyone's standards, but considering that the audience at the time was composed of fathers in their 50's and dudes that looked like they fixed Betamaxes for a living, I was easily the hottest guy in the joint.
Towards the end of our second hour, Kris had given me her real name, her mobile number and a general idea of where she lived, just in case I ever felt like visiting her in the daytime. I never actually got around to using any of that info though, mostly because I could not imagine having a real-life conversation with her anywhere but in the most private of settings. Still, I did enjoy myself, so it's not like anyone would be twisting my arm to hang out with her again.
Interesting sidenote: as I was leaving, it occurred to me that it might be a good idea to give her a tip. It wasn't a huge amount -- just PhP500 -- but for some reason, she stared right past it. After about two seconds, I sheepishly put the money away and said my goodbyes. To this day, I have no idea if she was insulted by the amount (I doubt it), or if she felt that I was going out of my way to remind her that she was, in fact, a bar-girl (possibly).
Either way, I stopped trying to tip the girls after that. If they genuinely liked you, they wouldn't need it, and if they didn't like you, then you wouldn't feel like giving it anyway, so what's the point?**
*MOMOL = make-out-make-out-lang
**I still tip the FMs though, just because you get small favors out of it later, e.g., they'll often let you reserve a girl over SMS if you notify them early enough.
Pricing
GRO: PhP400/hour
Model: PhP560/hour
Solo: PhP800/hour*
Stardust's per-hour rate is traditionally based around drinks. PhP800 will get a solo girl a very large glass of very watered-down beer, which they will sip through a straw for about an hour while listening to you make an ass of yourself. If you're feeling particularly generous, you can spring for a PhP1200 mixed drink (I forget what's in it, but it's called a California). Theoretically this will soften your girl up quite a bit, not just because it's less watered-down, but also because she makes more money for her time. Like bus drivers, these girls' daily wage is based completely on commissions of about 15%-20% for each ladies drink she receives. Essentially that means that a California represents PhP240 to them, while a regular beer only represents PhP160.
Of course, these girls aren't the only ones drinking. Guests' beers -- real ones, in bottles -- will run you about PhP80 each, which isn't exactly cheap (although in the grand scheme of things, it's just slightly above the average). There's also a PhP200 consumable cover charge at the door. The beer pricing is interesting actually, because this is the primary way that these bars recoup costs from guests who don't table. On any given night, you will see only about half of the tables in Stardust with girls in them; the other half will be nursing beers and watching the show.
Additionally, VIP rooms at Stardust cost between PhP1,200 and PhP3,000, consumable for guests' drinks and food. (In other words, you can eat and drink as much as you want, but ladies' drinks are still charged separately.) It's very easy to forget this when you're locked in a room with a girl's breasts on your forehead, so keep that in mind. I've been slapped down with some fairly hefty bills this way, and all I can say is, thank God I was too drunk to argue at the time.
The Show
Although it is impossible to properly rate and rank these things (I'd have to be there every night to judge consistency), I would say that Stardust's floor shows are one of the best you can find in the Quezon City area. The Friday ones are particularly killer -- apart from the usual solos and models, there are beer tricks, lesbian coupling and a big 50%-off auction at midnight. As a result, it's usually a real bitch to find a table on Friday night, so I do not recommend going there past 11pm.
The Girls
Stardust has a fairly wide gamut of girls. I've never determined how many regular girls they actually have, but given that their showroom is 7 rows deep, 50 seems like a conservative estimate. Stardust girls will usually go on-stage with numbers pinned to their underwear so you can ask the FM about them at your leisure.
Ironically, I have only had direct experiences with two of those 50 girls, although there's one other one, Donita, who is worth visiting simply because she looks very much like a certain STI endorser. ("Donita" is not her real name of course, but if you happen to ask the FMs, they'll know who you're talking about.)
Stardust is the first and only club I've ever gone to without at least one other friend with me, and this was back when I was still a bit of a rookie. One of the FMs, "Lara," had to sit with me for almost half-an-hour while I hemmed and hawed about tabling. This was punctuated by two trips to the showroom; both times I honestly could not find anyone interesting. After a lot of unnecessary small-talk, I finally just asked her to bring me whoever she thought was good. Five minutes later, she comes back with a girl named "Kris" on her arm, and all was good in the world.
Now that I look back on that night, I realize that Lara was possibly the only FM I ever met who recommended the top-end girls instead of the girls that were (I guess you could say) second-tier selections. One of the FMs' jobs is to make sure that inventory is moved in the most efficient manner, which generally means that if they can get away with it, they will give you the unpopular girls first. (This has happened to me enough times in enough places that I have actually gotten quite used to it.)
So yeah, as you can imagine, Kris was totally solo quality. Fair skin, pouty lips, expressive eyes, and -- at the risk of offending my predominantly female readership -- a very fine rack. Of course, that was all before she spoke. Kris was, as became apparent within the first two seconds of being introduced to her, a native of Bacolod, and her accent was quite typical of the region. Now, I don't generally care about accents that much, but let's just say it's difficult to get really hot and heavy with someone when they talk like the fuckin' laundrywoman.
That's not to say that I didn't get anything going though. Being a warm-blooded male in his mid-20's, I forged bravely ahead regardless. It was my first time alone in this adult Disneyland, and I went on to spend the next two hours momoling* the crap out of Kris in a VIP room the size of a large water closet. (Unfortunately I never had the guts to go beyond that, as I had promised myself I wouldn't stay longer than 2 hours no matter what.)
On hindsight though, it was totally within the realm of possibility that I could've gone all the way to the gimik phase with her if I had had the stones to ask. (And by that, I mean, without paying for it.) I'm not a super-attractive guy by anyone's standards, but considering that the audience at the time was composed of fathers in their 50's and dudes that looked like they fixed Betamaxes for a living, I was easily the hottest guy in the joint.
Towards the end of our second hour, Kris had given me her real name, her mobile number and a general idea of where she lived, just in case I ever felt like visiting her in the daytime. I never actually got around to using any of that info though, mostly because I could not imagine having a real-life conversation with her anywhere but in the most private of settings. Still, I did enjoy myself, so it's not like anyone would be twisting my arm to hang out with her again.
Interesting sidenote: as I was leaving, it occurred to me that it might be a good idea to give her a tip. It wasn't a huge amount -- just PhP500 -- but for some reason, she stared right past it. After about two seconds, I sheepishly put the money away and said my goodbyes. To this day, I have no idea if she was insulted by the amount (I doubt it), or if she felt that I was going out of my way to remind her that she was, in fact, a bar-girl (possibly).
Either way, I stopped trying to tip the girls after that. If they genuinely liked you, they wouldn't need it, and if they didn't like you, then you wouldn't feel like giving it anyway, so what's the point?**
*MOMOL = make-out-make-out-lang
**I still tip the FMs though, just because you get small favors out of it later, e.g., they'll often let you reserve a girl over SMS if you notify them early enough.
Jargon in the Jungle
Before we jump into the fray, some quick definitions are in order. Like any semi-organized community, night clubs have their own specialized lexicon of words and phrases that make sense only when you've been inside one of these places for an appropriate length of time. Exempli Gratia:
"Table"
Used as a verb in most cases to mean that you are paying for an hour of a girl's time. As the word implies, she will sit and have a drink with you at your table. In taglish, one would say, "Itatable ko sya" or "Limang oras ko sya tinable, pota." The way each club handles this particular process is slightly different. The classical method involves buying one ladies' drink per hour, at a cost of about PhP500.00 or so. (More on this in subsequent entries.)
"Showroom"
Each club has a slightly different way of handling how a guest goes about choosing a girl to table. The most common form is having all the available girls sit in an aquarium-like room, which guests can view from the outside. The quality of the showroom (not just the girls, but the furniture and lighting they use) is your first sign of the overall quality of the club, so you need to pay attention when the F.M. escorts you to this area.
"F.M."
Floor Manager, although sometimes they call this person the "G.R.M." or "Guest Relations Manager." FMs will usually send regular guests friendly texts every now and then informing them of club events or whatnot. Most of them will hand you a business card if you look halfway-decent on your first visit to their club.
Because the FMs are the ambassadors of a given club, the security will usually ask you who your FM is when you first step inside. If you don't have one yet (which implies that it's your first time there), you will probably be asked to comply with other security measures like leaving your cellphone at the door, or placing a bit of tape over its camera lenses. Otherwise, your regular FM will meet you at the door and escort you to a table.
"Area"
Most of the clubs I've been to follow the standard floor-show format, with tables and couches laid out around an elevated stage. A dancer who is currently on the stage may at times step down and approach one of the guests. "Area" is what they call that particular act, usage thusly: "Pina-area ko yung barkada ko sa kanya" or "Sabay-sabay sila nag-area nung nakita nila yung mga kano."
"GRO/Model/Solo"
As in other occupations, experience and skillset usually mean better pay and more benefits. So too in the world of girlie bars. A girl who has just started working at a bar is usually given GRO status. She makes less money when tabled, and does not go on stage much, if at all. Models are the next step up: they cost a hundred pesos more (roughly) to table than the GROs. You usually see models on-stage in groups, i.e., they do not have enough experience to dominate that stage by themselves. Solo performers represent the top of the food chain, often costing nearly twice as much as a GRO. Most solos will remove their tops while on stage, with about 50% of them going "all the way." Some solos have special tricks involving beer bottles or cigarettes. (I tend to stay well away from the stage when one of these types come on, as they usually give the beer bottle or cigarette to the closest guest after they're done with it. Yuck.)
None of these girls will ever give you their real names when you first meet them. If they don't like you, you may never find out what it is.
"Bar Fine"
Because a girlie bar is a business that must obey the same rules of profit and loss as any other company, the management usually discourages their girls from leaving the venue with their guests during business hours (generally 8pm to 4am). Particularly horny/wealthy guests who simply must have at it are made to pay a "bar fine" amounting to the maximum income that that girl represents for one night. Usually this starts at about PhP3,500, but it depends greatly on what kind of deal you can haggle for with an FM. (I've personally seen some girls asking for Php10,000 up front.)
"Gimmick" ... or probably, "Gimik"
Fornication for a fee. This colloquialism is a bastardization of a bastardization, with the regular pedestrian version meaning simply an outing or an activity. (The standard English meaning has nothing to do with either versions.) Be careful how you use this word in front of bargirls -- they will interpret your words differently.
"VIP"
Although not all clubs have floor shows, all of them will have private rooms that you can rent once you have chosen a girl to hang with. All of these rooms are called "VIP," even though some rooms are decidedly more "important" than others. Nearly all clubs will have a working KTV in their VIP rooms, with a long couch and a low table. (No beds here, as these rooms are not usually meant for fucking.)
"Table"
Used as a verb in most cases to mean that you are paying for an hour of a girl's time. As the word implies, she will sit and have a drink with you at your table. In taglish, one would say, "Itatable ko sya" or "Limang oras ko sya tinable, pota." The way each club handles this particular process is slightly different. The classical method involves buying one ladies' drink per hour, at a cost of about PhP500.00 or so. (More on this in subsequent entries.)
"Showroom"
Each club has a slightly different way of handling how a guest goes about choosing a girl to table. The most common form is having all the available girls sit in an aquarium-like room, which guests can view from the outside. The quality of the showroom (not just the girls, but the furniture and lighting they use) is your first sign of the overall quality of the club, so you need to pay attention when the F.M. escorts you to this area.
"F.M."
Floor Manager, although sometimes they call this person the "G.R.M." or "Guest Relations Manager." FMs will usually send regular guests friendly texts every now and then informing them of club events or whatnot. Most of them will hand you a business card if you look halfway-decent on your first visit to their club.
Because the FMs are the ambassadors of a given club, the security will usually ask you who your FM is when you first step inside. If you don't have one yet (which implies that it's your first time there), you will probably be asked to comply with other security measures like leaving your cellphone at the door, or placing a bit of tape over its camera lenses. Otherwise, your regular FM will meet you at the door and escort you to a table.
"Area"
Most of the clubs I've been to follow the standard floor-show format, with tables and couches laid out around an elevated stage. A dancer who is currently on the stage may at times step down and approach one of the guests. "Area" is what they call that particular act, usage thusly: "Pina-area ko yung barkada ko sa kanya" or "Sabay-sabay sila nag-area nung nakita nila yung mga kano."
"GRO/Model/Solo"
As in other occupations, experience and skillset usually mean better pay and more benefits. So too in the world of girlie bars. A girl who has just started working at a bar is usually given GRO status. She makes less money when tabled, and does not go on stage much, if at all. Models are the next step up: they cost a hundred pesos more (roughly) to table than the GROs. You usually see models on-stage in groups, i.e., they do not have enough experience to dominate that stage by themselves. Solo performers represent the top of the food chain, often costing nearly twice as much as a GRO. Most solos will remove their tops while on stage, with about 50% of them going "all the way." Some solos have special tricks involving beer bottles or cigarettes. (I tend to stay well away from the stage when one of these types come on, as they usually give the beer bottle or cigarette to the closest guest after they're done with it. Yuck.)
None of these girls will ever give you their real names when you first meet them. If they don't like you, you may never find out what it is.
"Bar Fine"
Because a girlie bar is a business that must obey the same rules of profit and loss as any other company, the management usually discourages their girls from leaving the venue with their guests during business hours (generally 8pm to 4am). Particularly horny/wealthy guests who simply must have at it are made to pay a "bar fine" amounting to the maximum income that that girl represents for one night. Usually this starts at about PhP3,500, but it depends greatly on what kind of deal you can haggle for with an FM. (I've personally seen some girls asking for Php10,000 up front.)
"Gimmick" ... or probably, "Gimik"
Fornication for a fee. This colloquialism is a bastardization of a bastardization, with the regular pedestrian version meaning simply an outing or an activity. (The standard English meaning has nothing to do with either versions.) Be careful how you use this word in front of bargirls -- they will interpret your words differently.
"VIP"
Although not all clubs have floor shows, all of them will have private rooms that you can rent once you have chosen a girl to hang with. All of these rooms are called "VIP," even though some rooms are decidedly more "important" than others. Nearly all clubs will have a working KTV in their VIP rooms, with a long couch and a low table. (No beds here, as these rooms are not usually meant for fucking.)
Welcome to the Jungle
This is a blog about girlie bars in the Philippines ... or "night clubs," as they are rather evasively referred to by their denizens and patrons. I'm the Table Guy, the only professional Night-Club critic in the country, and your host for the duration. Over the past 3 months, I've gone to over a dozen different night clubs in the Quezon City area, and am constantly on the lookout for new entries into this surprisingly competitive industry. Apart from the occasional ambiguous reference to my personal life, you will never know who I am. As you will come to understand in subsequent entries, this is actually quite apt.
There are a handful of reasons for this blog's existence, which I am compelled to list down now to justify all the time I am putting into it.
1. Nobody blogs about this shit. Seriously. Out of the 200,000 males that flock to night clubs every night in the Metro Manila area --statistic pulled out of ass, quote me if you dare-- not one has ever thought to write about the experience in any meaningful manner. And no, texting your friends about that gifted GRO who could blow smoke rings with her mouth closed doesn't count.
2. It's a lot more than appreciating an erotic dance, running your fingers between someone's butt cheeks, or blowing your wad in somebody's palm. It's a social experience, unlike anything else you've ever tried. ... That's not true, exactly. What it's most like is life itself, abbreviated to the scale of minutes instead of days and weeks, and distilled such that only important stuff like sex and money matter.
3. I personally need to get this information out there, because I have been walking around with these experiences for months now with no place to store them. Once I've grown out of my girlie-bar phase, I'll probably start another blog about shabu runners, the NBI and rehab centers in Paranaque. (Now there's a story for you.)
So that's pretty much it.
Welcome, strangers. Let me tell you a story.
There are a handful of reasons for this blog's existence, which I am compelled to list down now to justify all the time I am putting into it.
1. Nobody blogs about this shit. Seriously. Out of the 200,000 males that flock to night clubs every night in the Metro Manila area --statistic pulled out of ass, quote me if you dare-- not one has ever thought to write about the experience in any meaningful manner. And no, texting your friends about that gifted GRO who could blow smoke rings with her mouth closed doesn't count.
2. It's a lot more than appreciating an erotic dance, running your fingers between someone's butt cheeks, or blowing your wad in somebody's palm. It's a social experience, unlike anything else you've ever tried. ... That's not true, exactly. What it's most like is life itself, abbreviated to the scale of minutes instead of days and weeks, and distilled such that only important stuff like sex and money matter.
3. I personally need to get this information out there, because I have been walking around with these experiences for months now with no place to store them. Once I've grown out of my girlie-bar phase, I'll probably start another blog about shabu runners, the NBI and rehab centers in Paranaque. (Now there's a story for you.)
So that's pretty much it.
Welcome, strangers. Let me tell you a story.
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