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Now that I'm minorly sloshed and no longer pissed off, let me tell you about our Sexy Bar Sticker Party last week.

We were rambling about Sanbon, checking out bar after bar (Bar Magot gets a thumbs down, to my great chagrin... I mean, what a sweet name to live up to!) when we finally plowed our way into Sexy Bar. Sexy Bar is indeed sexy: it features hot Korean bartenders in tube tops and slinky jean skirts. The clientele is exclusively elderly Korean males, many of whom apparently hold high-ranking government positions. They clearly go to Sexy Bar after work to gape at pussy while ignoring the wives vibrating on their cell phones. They drink infidelity and sweat won onto mahogany bars.

So here we are, four boorish Westerners crashing the Sexy party and everyone is looking at us out of the corner of their eye. We are new; we are a glaring white light in the swirling dusk. Belinda immediately struck up a conversation with the table of Koreans next to us, because that's what Belinda does. She also happened to have stickers in her purse - we use stickers to bribe the kids into doing their homework. Beer being beer, we were soon wearing these stickers on our foreheads and me and Belinda went tooling around the bar (it's a small bar) and putting our remaining stickers on elderly Korean foreheads.

"What. Does. Mean?" one greying fellow asked me, and I enthusiastically told him that, "Everyone in Canada wears stickers! It's so cooooool. Fuckin' rad, man!" I was overjoyed by how complacent these guys were about getting an Octopus Sticker jammed onto their faces by some Western dick, even if they quickly took it off when I turned my back. Nobody said no, nobody got pissed. Even the Sexy Girls were okay with being tentacled. Everyone just took it, everyone received the glorious forehead sticker with a quizzical glance at other Koreans. I'm sure they talked some serious shit about us in their dank corners, but I like to think we gave them a Sexy Bar experience they'll never forget. I mean, you can make a massive failure of yourself trying to pick up a bar wench every night - how often do you get an Aussie and a Canadian prancing around your favourite tit bar and stickering you?

Back at the table, Belinda was in full conversational swing and Mike and Sam forced me at knifepoint to ask the table next to ours questions about where I could find "14 year old pay-sex girls". It was particularly inappropriate considering one dude had just finished telling me about his - wait for it - 14 year old daughter. I enquired about local chapters of the Church of Satan and that about wrapped it up. Nobody understood and they were tired of trying. The yangos left Sexy Bar in a swath of noise and failed Sexy Hugs, international relations work done and done.

Posted by Chris at 11:21 AM >> Commentations (3)