WHERE _S HYPERACT_VE?

IF THERE EVER WAS A TIME THAT EVERY MOLECULE OF MY BODY

HAD TO EXEMPLIFY HYPERACTIVE,

THIS IS IT.

_  BREATHE HYPERACT_VE.

_  MOVE HYPERACT_VE.

_  L_VE HYPERACT_VE.

! AM THE HYPERACT!VE GAY BOY™

HOLLA
HOLLA
HOLLA
C'MON, C'MON...

#GETHYPERACTIVE!

LUNCH INSPIRATION: WILD GRASS | RUSTIC FRENCH DINING ON ARBUTHNOT ROAD, HONG KONG

Finally got a chance to catch up with my dear friend, Apple, for long-postponed lunch a couple of weeks ago. Apple and I first met years ago when our circumstances were reversed. I was then working PR & Marketing from the brand side; she was then editing a Discovery Bay community magazine.

Apple brought me to Wild Grass, a spacious restaurant along quiet Arbuthnot Road.

For some reason, restaurants on Arbuthnot haven't had much luck diverting even just a fraction of Wyndham's incredible foot traffic upwards. Good for me 'coz I walked into Wild Grass in its pristine, untouched, ready-for-service glory. It was every inch as idyllic as I imagined the French countryside might look like. Rustic, tranquil, yawning with contentment from all the love it has seen through generations.

Apple introduced me to Stephane, Wild Grass' GM, who recommended we try the set lunch. I agreed at once; I am instantly intimidated when faced with a French menu. Besides, I'll eat anything served.

The food was so pretty, I wanted to eat everything - including the herbs and the wooden serving trays. Delicious, too. Big flavors, sensuous textures, and just knock-your-socks-off-gorgeous presentation.

Next time you're feeling like you've run the gamut of boring lunch eateries, take a walk on the Wild side.


WILD GRASS
1/F, 4-8 Arbuthnot Rd.
Central Hong Kong
E: info@wildgrass.hk
T +852 2810 1189

ASIA'S PR PRINCESS

I'm in the process of updating the Mr Gay HK media kit for 2013-2014. It's mostly tedious - re-looking at numbers, lay-out, new success stories, trends to watch out for, etc, etc - all in the name of grabbing potential brand partners by the balls and shaking them from side-to-side, until they relent and sign over precious sponsorship dollars for me to see my pet project through another year.

2013 is Mr Gay HK, Year 5.

I'm having a bit of a moment, reminiscing about what has been the past four years. How stories were created, how they were shaped, where I found fertile ground to plant the seeds of a campaign, and then watch it grow and intensify...

I used to enjoy this. I was really good at it, too. It's incredible, looking back at what you've done and realizing that you've accomplished some super-fucking-human feats. If I had met myself five years ago, I would have said:

Holy shit, princess - where'd you find time to get all of these done, plus manage a social persona, maintain friendships and a meaningful relationship with Chris, keep in constant touch with family, do drag, and blog??!

I was of course a lot more persistent when I was younger. These days, I wouldn't deem waste anybody's time. I'd move on as soon as I hear a No, because, I tell myself, it's not the end of the world. There are other things in life which will be a Yes, and they're just straight ahead, so keep on walking! But looking back at what I've been able to accomplish, armed with nothing more than youth and persistence and naivete, I'd say:

You fucking wore people out with your enthusiasm, until they just said Yes so you would go away!

I would have liked to be friends with that guy - that penniless, Hyperactive gay boy. He made things happen without knowing, fully, how he made them happen. He simply jumped into the deep end - and he'd ask questions later. But only if he absolutely had to. He was self sufficient and independent and driven and bullheaded and positive.

He was happy and energetic.

He was free.

Sometimes we need to force ourselves to look back, to inspire ourselves in the present, for what we need to get done tomorrow. That's just what happened to me.




POST-SCRIPT

Looking back on it, pondering, writing about it and congratulating yourself isn't enough. Pause for a moment and thank the universe for always making sure you see the redemption after every conflict she throws at you.

-Ryeness

I LIVE FOR THE APPLAUSE: HYPERACTIVEGAYBOY X GARRETT POPCORN X LADY GAGA MAKING MONDAYS POP!

I WAS THIS EXCITED
TO MEET CASON CRANE...

BUT I PROMPTLY TURNED INTO A WALLFLOWER
IN HIS PRESENCE

(I'M SHY AROUND MY CRUSHES.)

ALL I GOT WAS THIS BLURRED PIC.

SO I JUST SAT DOWN...

LISTENED...

AND BECAME ONE...

WITH THE CARPET.

THANKS TO THE 'CHICAGO MIX' BAGS OF GARRTT POPCORN ON THE SNACK COUNTER,
MY NIGHT - SLOWLY - GREW MORE AND MORE COLOURFUL.

CHEESY CHEESECORN™   TO WAKE MY PALATE UP
+ SWEET CARAMELCRISP® TO RESET MY ENERGY BACK TO #HYPR! 

...IT WAS SO GOOD,
I HAD TO KEEP WORKING THROUGH MY LITTLE BAGGIE
ON THE STEPS OF STANDARD CHARTERED BANK'S HEADQUARTERS
WHILST ADMIRING HK'S MAJESTIC SKYSCRAPERS.

GOSH, THIS POPCORN - THEY WERE INVENTED IN CHICAGO OVER 60 YEARS AGO.
THEY'VE CERTAINLY COME A LONG WAY!

SO IRRESISTIBLE,
I HAD TO POP THE LID
ON THE 1 GALLON TIN (PINK, NATCH)
THAT SCOTT SCHROEDER, GARRETT POPCORN'S EVP & CHIEF BRAND OFFICER,
GAVE ME FOR MY BIRTHDAY.

IT WAS A GRAND OPENING.

#HYPR HEART GARRETT POPCORN.

MONDAYS ARE MANIC AT THE OFFICE.

BUT TODAY, I'M TAKING MY GINORMOUS TIN OF GARRETT POPCORN
TO HELP MAKE MONDAYS MARVELOUS!

AFTER ALL, IF IT MAKES ME HAPPY TO EAT GREAT POPCORN,
SURELY, IT HAS THAT EFFECT ON OTHER PEOPLE, TOO!

WE'RE ABOUT TO HAVE ANOTHER
GRAND OPENING!

APPLAUSE, APPLAUSE!

// HAPPY MONDAY, 

 HYPRS! //

MAC INDULGE, KIEHL'S ULTIMATE MEN + READY FOR LOVE

FRONT ROW SEATS (I grabbed 'em; Sarah reluctantly followed...)
AT THE MAC INDULGE PRESS LAUNCH.

A VIOLINIST PLAYING AC/DC OPENED THE SHOW.
MC EXTRAORDINAIRE CYRUS CHOW HOSTED.
BEAUTIES & THE BEAST MODELED.

RIGHTMOST IS 2013 MR GAY HK FINALIST, TREVOR ALT.
WOOHOO! 

HK MAG'S SEXY MANAGING EDITOR, SARAH FUNG,
GETS HER MAC INDULGE FACE ON.

A BIT OF GUYLINER + PRESSED POWDER FOR HYPERACTIVE.

BLACKTRACK FLUIDLINE EYELINER GEL (!!!)  IS SUPER NICE.
MY GUY, JOHN CHAN, USED AN ANGLED EYELINER BRUSH
TO WING THE CORNERS OF MY EYES.

EVERY SO OFTEN HE'D DIP THE BRUSH IN WATER
TO GET A DEEPER, DARKER SOOTY-ER APPLICATION.

THE RESULT WAS A CLEAN, PRECISE AND GRAPHIC POP
THAT INSPIRED ME TO WEAR THE LOOK
WELL INTO THE EVENING.

BRING THE WEEKEND ON!
POUNDING PAVEMENT IN SOHO.

AT KIEHL'S ULTIMATE MEN FUNDRAISER AGAINST CHILD ABUSE

"WHY SO SULLEN?" AD WONDERED.

"BECAUSE," I REASONED,
"THE BOOK'S IN FUNNY ENGLISH!"

AND THE SAMPLE PRODUCTS GIVEN US WERE LOOSE -
NOT IN BRANDED GOODY BAGS (!!!).

BUT AD AND I STILL DONATED.
ANYTHING FOR THE KIDS.

#HYPR + #EVILGENIUS?

IT'S AN #MGHK POWER PLAY.

NIGHT'S NOT NEARLY DONE YET!

OFF TO EMMA'S NEXT
TO HANG OUT
WITH MY
NON-SEXUAL WIFE
OVER PIZZA, PASTA &
RERUNS OF DIVA UNIVERSAL'S
READY FOR LOVE.

IT'S ONE OF THOSE "IT'S SO BAD, IT'S GOOD"
MOMENTS IN POP CULTURE.
TRASH-TASTIC!

WITH SUCH SMOLDERING SENSUALITY,
IT'S A WONDER WE'VE KEPT THIS MARRIAGE
NON-SEXUAL AT ALL!

AFTER A QUICK HI-HELLO TO MY BEST FRIEND RYE,
OFF TO YET ANOTHER PARTY...

AND THEN MY iPHONE DIED.

// #HYPER?

YOU DON'T SAY. //

THE J BRIDGE CROSSING

WHO IS J BRIDGE -
AND WHAT EXACTLY DOES 'J' STAND FOR?

ph. HEIHEI YAU

The shoes were funny (category: weird). I felt like I was walking in high heels - except the heels were down the front. These "heels," I would later find out, were designed to secure me onto a bike. I will not fall off. Rather, it is hoped I wouldn't. And in case I did, I would surely take the bike crashing down with me.

"This is perhaps the trickiest part," grunted one of the trainers after helping me hoist myself up onto the saddle. "It's a bit of a learning curve, clipping your shoes to the pedals."

I slid my right foot back and forth, forth and back along the right pedal - nothing. It felt like rubbing the surfaces of two, smooth rocks against each other. After what seemed like an eternity, I heard an onerous "click!"

"Hear that click?" the trainer beamed. "Now, do the other side," he instructed. He then left to let me figure things out on my own while he helped other people click themselves in. "Click!" - my left shoe went, sending chills from my ankles, all the way up to my calves and thighs. That sound had the crystal-clear finality of handcuffs clicking on to the wrists of a law offender.

I am a health offender.

I eat too much, whenever. There's no rhythm to my feeding schedule; why would there be? I have abused my body far too long. I ate and drank years of my life away without offsetting my mind-boggling calorie intake with a reasonable amount of exercise. Exercise is painful, I reasoned. Why would I, as a reasonable adult, willingly subject myself to pain?

Until J Bridge came along.

Bridge is a dear friend and my personal trainer.

I first knew him as a candidate for Mr Gay HK 2012. He finished in second place, promptly flooding my phone with emotional messages. If I was impressed with how quickly he sculpted his body into competition ready-ness (he is either criminally disciplined, or just genetically better than 99.9% of humanity), I was even more impressed by his unbridled unmasking of pretentious civility. He was hurt and confused and angry and in denial and dammit, he had to make sure I knew it, too!

The next morning, he showed up on my junk boat - back to being the charming, effervescent, fun-loving Bridge I pegged him to be. There was a moment of sheepishness about the previous night's events but that's just what it was - a moment, nothing more. I was quadruply impressed with his radical resilience. Had I been in his place, I would have locked me up to wallow in a putrid pool of self-pity. And I don't need nobody's help locking me on to some shiny, new bike pedal, either!

He was sent to Hong Kong as "Elder Hudson," way before gay Mormon missionaries got to be kinda cool. He learned Cantonese as a function of his mission.

"Jonathan," he smilingly introduced himself to me.

"Jo-Na-Than..." I counted in my head. Three syllables. It evoked images of crusty, old, Hebrew dudes - the kind that spoke to burning bushes or stroke pestilence upon a nation. "Middle name?" I asked hopefully.

"Bridge," he exhaled, the 'b' and 'r' consonants purring into a languid, palate-caressing 'idge.'

I was hypnotized.

"Jonathan Bridge. You can call me Jonathan. Or Bridge - I don't really mind..." he must have gone on for quite a bit, as though he needed to reassure me that it's really, really, really OK for me to call him anything.

Bridge.

It wasn't just exhalation; it was a sigh.

"I like it," I announced to no one in particular. Suddenly, I was inspired to compose his profile on Mr Gay HK's online voting page.

By the time he got up to the microphone to say why he should be the next Mr Gay HK, any edge of an accent had been sandpapered into fluid facility of the language. There could not have been a more incongruent sound to come from a young, six-foot-plus, strawberry blonde stunner. He won the audience over that very instant. He takes to the stage well, I thought, like he had been doing it for years. Any image of Elder Hudson had been effectively flushed from my memory bank.

After Mr Gay HK, Bridge and I kept in touch in my capacity as a marketing and PR clown. He edited the English edition of a tourist publication. He fit so well with media types, I thought then. Articulate, able to express opinions that people understand and relate with, honest, but sweet and nice.

He did some modeling, too, which seemed to get a lot busier the more he hung out with the party set. Could he be the gay Paris Hilton of Hong Kong? Someone who strike people as a ditz - until they find out about her hit single, a best selling line of perfumes, and the fact that she gets paid to party. Isn't that funny (category: annoying)?

I saw a different side of Bridge through my dear friend, Angie, a devoted vegan brainiac who blogs, models, produces films, and is an all-around poster girl for alternative lifestyles. Bridge got along famously with that feel-good, self-loving, hippie, New Age-y crowd, too. Not long after, he had completed the kilometric paperwork attached to adopting an abandoned puppy.

I don't any more remember how we got talking about him taking me on as a client. I don't even remember how he got started as a fitness trainer, much less why. He's just a chameleon. And he's everywhere, all at once. And at some point, the omnipresent chameleon must have happily traded his editor's pen for a... a pair of tights!?

The tights had reflectors on them, too.

I was in XYZ, a sex-tastic spin studio that's still so secret-secret at the moment, even Google's search lips are sealed. Bridge was doing his first class as a spin instructor, with real-people students other than his fellow fitness fem-bots.

I died.

Funny (category: strange) that I was extra-lucid in death, like I was experiencing everything with heightened awareness.

That's the nature of punishment, I philosophized. It makes you huff and puff and suffer. It causes your calves to cramp up. Escape is hopeless; your feet are locked in. Meanwhile, in front of you, Elder Jonathan Bridge Hudson is bathed in a heavenly glow of strobes and gobbos. Instead of verses from the Book of Solomon, he spewed remixes from the songbook of Mariah. I closed my eyes, promptly sending my entire body hurtling through a supercharged Fat Burn hallucination. How could it be that my feet were still moving, and together with the down beat, too, just like Elder Hudson said?! Holyfuckshit, I had turned into a machine!

I died.

"GURLIFUCKINGDIED!!!!" I shrieked after the class. My eyeballs were still vibrating from the intense exertion.

"But you got through it," Bridge pointed out helpfully, in that breathy, sing-song-y Bridge-y way of his. "And since you did this tonight, I promise we won't do legs tomorrow."

"Tomorrow" had me indulging in champagne facials (I swear I was with a client) before my scheduled training with Bridge. I texted to cancel. I was awash with remorse.

A few hours of pleasure, another lifetime in the fatties' penitentiary.

But who am I to complain? It's funny (category: unbelievable!) - last I checked, I had lost two inches off my waist and dropped to a size 'S' t-shirt at H&M.

If the J Bridge Crossing is on the path to skinny salvation, I'd be going down that road again.

And again.

And again.

THERE'S MORE THAN ONE WAY TO BE A MAN™

2010 MR GAY HK RICK TWOMBLEY
2010 MR GAY WORLD 2ND RUNNER-UP // OSLO, NORWAY
BEST IN NATIONAL COSTUME
JOINT WINNER, MR CONGENIALITY

ph. VAN TENGGA for MGHK

2011 MR GAY HK HEIHEI YAU
2011 MR GAY WORLD SPECIAL AWARDEE // MANILA, THE PHILIPPINES

(FOR IRRESISTIBLE CUTENESS, WE SUSPECT...)

ph. VAN TENGGA for MGHK

2012 MR GAY HK JIMMY WONG
2012 MR GAY WORLD TOP 10 // JOHANNESBURG, SOUTH AFRICA

ph. DS MAGAZINE

2013 MR GAY HK BENJIE CARAIG
2013 MR GAY WORLD 1ST RUNNER-UP // ANTWERP, BELGIUM

ph. DS MAGAZINE

HEARTFELT THANKS AND MUCH LOVE 

TO OUR FAMILY, 

FRIENDS, 

LOVED ONES,

SPONSORS

AND FANS.

WITHOUT YOUR SUPPORT,

NONE OF THESE WOULD HAVE BEEN

POSSIBLE.

2014 
MR GAY HK YEAR 5

THE PINK REVEAL

WATCH 
WHAT HAPPENS

NEXT.

RIP RUSS JORDAN.

WE REMEMBER YOU WITH FONDNESS
AND GRATEFULNESS.

THE #FITNOTFAT WERQOUT™

THE #FITNOTFAT OUTDOOR WERQOUT™
WITH FAB FITNESS TRAINER, J BRIDGE HUDSON.

WE'RE SO NOT SHOWING OUR BICEPS OFF - STOP!
WE'RE SHOWING OFF OUR MATCHING HIS-AND-HIS PARA'KITO WRISTBANDS. 

GETTING #FITNOTFAT IS A PROPER ENDEAVOR.

HYPERACTIVE'S #FITNOTFAT OUTDOOR WERQOUT™ ESSENTIALS:

* LIFETRONS' SUPER SEXY PORTABLE SPEAKERS,
TO BLAST UPLIFTING GOSPEL HOUSE IN HI-DEF STEREO SOUND

* MEDICINE BALL,
FOR POWERED-UP BOOTY PUMPS AND PUSH-UPS

* PARA'KITO WRISTBAND AND CLIP
TO KEEP ME FOCUSED ON GETTING #FITNOTFAT,
NOT ON SCRATCHING MOSQUITO BITES!

I got a truckload of birthday presents this year - THANK YOU. I do love prezzies and can't imagine throwing a birthday party that says "No presents, please." I mean?!? It's fun to give and receive! That's also why I don't believe in people who say they're Top Only or Bottom Only - but let's save that for another blog entry.

This year, I thought I'd give myself a present, too.

I signed up for personal training with my dear friend, Bridge, who also happens to be the 2012 Mr Gay HK 1st Runner-up. I'm tired of being fat, especially when I have to stand for photos in the middle of my Mr Gay HK winners! So I decided to get #fitnotfat.

We have a lot of fun, Bridge and myself. We're both extroverts; outdoor exercise suits us much better. And we werqout later in the evening, since we're both frighteningly busy. We gossip a lot. It's fun having the non-threatening presence (as opposed to predatory 99% of the time) of another gay man, with whom to decompress and just process the day's events.  No judgment. Just two, strong, black women - gabbing.

We gab whilst we roll out my IT band - that tough group of fibers that run along the outside of the thigh. We gab whilst doing squats, lunges, chest passes - any exercise that doesn't require me to focus on counting or on some belabored breathing. I'm only ever quiet when I jump rope or do push-ups or burpees (yuck).

Unfortunately, whilst we gab, mosquitoes feast. The mozzies at Sun Yat Sen Park are notoriously huge, bloodthirsty suckers. Half the time, I was either clapping mosquitoes dead or scratching at the big, angry bites. The next day, I came prepared with a bottle of mosquito repelling spray and some ointment to rub on inflamed bites. I did the whole ointment thing all over again after I showered. My body was riddled with spots - battle scars from my war against mosquitos. I went to bed, defeated.

Enter Plug PR to the rescue, with a care package from Para'Kito. The mosquitoes are... nowhere. Don't see them. I've been a happy camper since then because all I have to do to get myself #fitnotfat is get into my werqout clothes. I have my wristband on all-day anyway, and my bag is similarly clipped. I've got a "protective shield" around me.

"It smells nice," Bridge noted.

"Citronella, I think."

"I don't even feel like I stink post-werqout coz I've got this beautiful smell around me."

"Well, that's not an excuse not to wear deodorant..."

"I used to not wear deodorant when I had a desk job and wouldn't need to be out on meetings."

"Really?"

"Yeah... It's tough to find a vegan deo. Most have harmful chemicals."

"In the Philippines, you could get tawas... I don't know what it's called in English... It looks like a rock..."

"A crystal - yeah I've seen it!"

And so forth. We mouth ourselves off for hours and hours. Meanwhile, I'm getting a good werqout in. It might be tough to believe this, coming from bossy, old me - but working on my physical shell is also doing wonders for my soul.

I celebrated my birthday last week, surrounded by the beautiful, amazing people who have made this Hyperactive Hong Kong life so meaningful.

It has been eight years since I first got here.

And I feel like I've only just begun.

DARK CHOCOLATE!

B3: BRUNO, BENJIE & BRIDGE

CHEERS TO #HYPR!

WITH MY BELOVED AD

AT MR GAY HK'S MEDIA MEET & GREET AND SEND-OFF PARTY FOR MR GAY WORLD

(L-R): RYE BAUTISTA, ANNA ADASIEWICZ, EMMA HAMMONDS, #HYPR,
LEGGY MODEL LAURA FROM GERMANY, AND HELENA CHAN OF ASIA'S NEXT TOP MODEL

PARTY POLA!

 

// WE START OUT WALKING 

AND LEARN TO RUN! //