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!

THIS IS WHY I LOVE BEAUTY PAGEANTS.

Been frighteningly busy with pageants lately, being that we're preparing for Mr Gay HK Year 5 and we've just launched Mr Gay Singapore. Another Mr Gay pageant in a major Asian powerhouse is in the works, which we're keeping under wraps until we're ready with all the bits and pieces. We're determined to produce mega-glamtastic Asian representation at the 2014 Mr Gay World finals in Rome, just 'coz gay Asian men are so damn phyne! (Just ask Norm Yip.)

SO.

Life has been a dizzying stream of beauty queens (literally - queens!!!) lately. I'm thankful for the occasional, humorous relief.

Seen the vid?

Priceless reaction.

She was only 16, the little sweetheart, when she won the title.

Hell, I'd pass out, too, if ~I~ were proclaimed Miss France!

Thanks to Geraldine of the Pageant Happy Hour for sharing this awesome vid!  

VIPER HEAD

TAKING MY VIPERS OUT FOR A WALK IN SHEUNG WAN.

MY VIPERS AND I EN ROUTE TO BANGKOK.
MY VIPERS BEHAVE WELL IN FLIGHTS.

(NOTE TO SELF: TRIM EYEBROWS. GETTING GRUNGY.)

 IF YOU DON'T MIND, HYPERACTIVE, I'D LIKE TO HAVE MY LOOK BACK, PLEASE!

I recently received a set of Viper Head in-ear noise-isolating headphones from the folks at Quarkie. Thank you. 

When I first laid my eyes on my twin yellow vipers, I feared they might uncoil and attack. The cold reptilian eyes, the kinetic tongue, the textured skin... The level of detail is impressive. Other noise-isolating headphones look just like generic earphones - so where's the fun in that? Noise-canceling headphones, on the other hand, tend to be (1) huge, heavy, unattractive cans in standard black or silver; (2) need batteries (!) and; (3) expensive. So my vipers indeed made a very good first impression on me. I was excited to take them out for a whirl in busy Sheung Wan.

Before we proceed further, please note that neither noise-isolating nor noise-canceling headphones can really eliminate noise. Only the Miss Universe's legendary "sound-proof isolation booth" can do that, natch. OK, let's keep going.

I tested several different kinds of noise-canceling headphones at Siam Paragon in Bangkok a few weeks ago. I could still hear what was happening around me, although conversations sounded like they were happening in the next room. In your room, here and now, the noise is simply reduced enough so you're lulled into some illusion of personal space. You'll feel magically alone, even if you were indeed stuck in Saladaeng rush hour during Songkran. In which case, you'd have to be crazy to have an expensive piece of equipment on your person. It will get wet and will immediately become useless. You will cry. You should have just thrown your baht away on "body-to-body massage," every day, twice a day, for the whole fucking holiday. Regardless, if you're in perpetually noisy environments where you need to tune the rest of heaving humanity out in order to function, buy a pair of noise-canceling headphones.

But if - like me - you're more concerned about crytal-clear music enjoyment so you can nurture your growing lesbian relationship with Jennifer Lopez, get yourself a pair of noise-isolating headphones instead. They reduce noise, too, without having a misleading term like "canceling." I particularly like how the viper head's custom eartips (comes in 4 sizes) pop easily into my ears for a perfect seal. Getting into my ear canals also means that the sound quality is richer, better, with very little to no distortion.

Let's do girl talk, J.Lo - just you and I.

// NO HISSING, PLEASE. //

ASSET VALUE

 

// 

GUADA LOREN SOPHIA.

I LOVE YOU, TEACHER LOREN.

 //

OUR KORNER
G/F The Scarlet
33 Erskine Road
Singapore
+65 6511 3323


BREWERKZ
Riverside Point 

30 Merchant Rd  

Singapore

+ 65 6438 7438

 

M HOTEL SINGAPORE

An upgrade to a Club Floor, the 27th. Sweet.

Dramatic view of the docks - more containers than you can count - from our room.

Peaceful, orderly lobby. Very Singaporean, indeed.

Nice pool on the "wet floor," the 11th.

The gay precinct (DYMK, Tantric, May Wong, Nirvana, etc) is just a 5-minute walk.

We finally arrived in M Hotel on Anson Road at close to midnight, Friday. Our flight was delayed over half an hour from Hong Kong. There were crying babies in front of me and behind me throughout almost four hours of hellish incubation in a Tiger Airways vessel. Nope, you don't get the peace and quiet of business class when you're flying budget.

My only consolation was - at least people start partying much later in Singapore than they do in Hong Kong. Chris and I could realistically still catch up with the gang, even if we step out at 1am.

Patricia, the receptionist who checked us in, had a sweet and musical intonation to her speech. I wasn't feeling particularly warm and fuzzy after the awful flight but Patricia put me right at ease.

"How's occupancy tonight?" I asked, just to make idle conversation whilst she typed away at her computer.

"We're very full," she replied, "that's why I'm upgrading you to a Club Floor. Are you okay with sharing one queen bed?"

GIRL!

I could have kissed her right there and then. I think she could tell we were homosexual husbands.

Our room was humongous. I swear I had a mini-orgasm as soon as I saw the executive table. I could blog to my heart's content. Internet was charged SGD20++ per day, but whatever. I need internet. I'd die otherwise.

***

Chris booked M Hotel through Agoda. He got a "Book 2 nights, get 1 night free" deal. Surprising, since I would have thought there'd be no such deals during the summer. We heart Agoda.

M Hotel was awarded Best Deluxe Hotel by Hospitality Asia in 2009. It shows. The facilities are terrific compared to other hotels. The 11th floor houses the spa, pool and gym. Chris and I even worked out together twice. Butch bonding with dumbbells and everything. We were lovingly refilling each others' water cup in between sets. So romantic.

The only real downer in the entire experience was my unfortunate decision to take my sister, Loren, to the Hokkaido Restaurant on the 9th floor. My youngest sister has been based in Singapore for almost a year now, teaching art to very young kids. We were meant to have lunch in Chinatown but since it was raining, I assumed it'd be better to just stay in the hotel.

We got to the restaurant at 2pm.

"We're taking last orders already," the lady snapped by way of greeting.

"That's fine," I replied. "We'll make our order quickly."

She pointed us towards a dark table, which wasn't really very welcoming.

"May we have a table closer to the windows so we can have a bit of light, please," I requested.

It took her about three seconds to say, "Of course," because clearly, she had already closed the area off. The restaurant was empty; we were the only guests there. She obviously wanted to go on her break immediately - who wouldn't?

I selected a pork set and asked to replace my rice with vegetables.

"No," she replied.

"What?" I said, blinking my hyperactive eyes.

"You can't just change the set. It's a set."

"You have the items in the kitchen, anyway. Just give me some cucumber sticks or sauteed mushrooms. I don't eat rice."

"Sorry, no."

"Don't you have any flexibility about dietary requirements? Isn't that what hospitality is about?"

"If you want to eat something else, you better order a la carte."

Yeah, except nothing in the a la carte menu caught my fancy. And by that time, I had lost my appetite anyway.

"What's your name?"

"Molly."

"Molly," I said, "I'm a room guest. I'm sad that you're not more hospitable. Goodbye."

My sister and I left.

We then had lunch at The Scarlet on Erskine Road, where the server didn't bat an eyelash when I requested to have my chips replaced with vegetables. She brought over a side of beautiful, steamed broccoli.



M Hotel 
81 Anson Road
Singapore
079908

T: + 65 6224 1133
W: millenniumhotels.com.sg

The Diva Video Of The™ Cher / Believe

//

Do you believe in life after love?

Do you believe in life after love?

Do you believe in life after love?

Do you believe in life after love?

//

  // SINGAPORE //

THE FREEDOM TO HYPERACTIVE LOVE

MEN WOMEN CHILDREN HOMIES TRANNIES ANIMALS TWINKS MUSCLE BOYS BEARS LIPSTICK BULL BABY DYKES FAMILIES LOVERS FRIENDS 

THE HYPERACTIVE GAY BOY™

15,000 STRONG. 

// SUPPORTING THE FREEDOM TO LOVE. //

The Diva Video Of The Day™ P!nk / Get This Party Started

//

Get this party started on a saturday night

Everybody's waitin' for me to arrive

Sendin' out the message to all of my friends

We'll be lookin' flashy in my mercedes benz

I got lotsa style, got my gold diamond rings

I can go for miles if you know what I mean

I'm comin' up so you better get this party started

I'm comin' up so you better get this party started

//

THE HYPERACTIVE GAY BOY™

 // I AM A PINK DOT. // 

The Diva Video of the Day™ Nelly Furtado / I'm Like A Bird

//

I'm like a bird, I'll only fly away

I don't know where my soul is, I don't know where my home is

(and baby all I need for you to know is)

I'm like a bird, I'll only fly away

I don't know where my soul is , I don't know where my home is

All I need for you to know is

Your faith in me brings me to tears

//

// ELEPHANT PARADE . Orchard Road, Singapore //

The Diva Video of the Day® Madonna / Masterpiece (W.E. Soundtrack)

//

When I'm lost and insecure

you build me up and make me sure

that everything will be alright

My love

//

// RAFFLES HOTEL . Singapore //

Baklasia

Baklava (Turkish): a rich, sweet pastry made of layers of filo pastry 
 filled with chopped nuts and sweetened with syrup or honey;

Baklasia (Filipino): a contraction of the declarative sentence
"Bakla (homosexual male) siya (third person pronoun);"

Baklasia (Singlish): a mashup of "baklava" and "Asia;" a cafe in Orchard Central's
Christmas Market Place

Hyperactive Gay Angel™
Photo by Swee Wee Keong

Santa's secret high heels

"The Cabaret Pink Show" - what a deliciously camp title!

//        Hyperactive in Singapore       //

Spicy Noodles Diary 3: Snobbish Laksa

Hello, Friends!


My cousin Mark and I did everything together as kids - summers in the Franciscan convent in Delfin Albano, calligraphy classes, circumcision. We were so similar, we were often mistaken for twins. We were best friends.

On Mark's 13th year, my uncle Henry, Mark's dad, sent him to a preppy private high school in Manila run by the La Salle brothers. Meanwhile, I stayed in Tuguegarao to continue my schooling with the Paulinian sisters. And that's when Mark and I started to develop wildly different personalities. Anyone would have to be blind - or extremely gullible - to mistake us for twins now.

"You're a bear," I explain after Mark expressed annoyance about a gay trolly dolly who was incessantly hitting on him. We are seated on a window table in Chatterbox, a smart eatery in Mandarin Orchard.

"What's a bear...?" he asks carefully. Although he is straight, he is perceptive and should rightfully suspect that when his hyperactive gay cousin says "bear," it means something more than just the eponymous animal or a general decline in the stock market.

"A large mammal," I smack my lips whilst perusing the menu. "Usually carnivorous, therefore, sexy. A hairy guy with an imposing presence. The flight attendant who had a crush on you is called a chub chaser."

Mark laughs, showing me a photo of his girlfriend on his Blackberry.

"Cute girl," I nod approvingly. "How old?"

"24."

"Young."

"But already starting to talk about marriage and kids and..."

"And how does that make you feel?"

Pause.

"I like being single. Too much."

Laughter.

"You are frightful," I scold. "You're exactly the type of guy I warn my girl friends against."

The laksa arrives.

It is served on what looks like a red clay peanut bowl. My heart sinks to the bottom of my empty belly. I am immediately underwhelmed because with laksa, size does matter. But I try to hide my disappointment because I do miss Mark a lot. He's the closest thing I ever had to a male hetero best friend. It's awesome that he happened to be in Singapore on a business trip whilst I was there, too, on an impulsive weekend escape from manic Hong Kong.

"It's... petite," I smile with every ounce of enthusiasm I could muster. "A perfectly portioned starter."

"Look at this," Mark shows me something from his bowl. "Lobster claw."

"A whole lobster claw..." I murmur in disbelief as I dig into my own laksa to find the same. What's more, cholesterrific quail eggs happily swim in the soup instead of a larger but decidedly less glamorous chicken egg.

The flavours are bold and intense yet exquisitely balanced. While the shamelessly decadent ingredients may be dismissed as gimmick, they are prepared with the same level of precision you'd expect from classical cuisines. Chatterbox's laksa is a David amongst Goliaths. I am thoroughly satisfied as my ceramic spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl.

Next we are served Chicken rice on a pretty lacquered tray. Honestly, it's pointless to avoid Singapore's favourite dish.

The chicken thigh is silky and has just the right amount of fat. I wonder whilst chewing: Does the Mandarin Orchard put their chooks on some kind of avian stairmaster?

The ginger dip is so finely pounded, I can't detect a single fibre. The chilli sauce has so much kick, I practically inhale my bowl of rice to douse the fire in my digestive system.

"Yummy," I pronounce with contentment.

Mark and I hook up on BBM before he jumps into a waiting limo en route to Changi International.

There wasn't even enough time for dessert or coffee. Or a Singapore Sling...

Mark works with commodities and travels a lot. I'm hyperactive and therefore can never stay put. It'll be a while before Mark and I see each other again. Adults have a funny way of letting life get in the way.

"Now," I wonder, "where's my private jet?"

"Taxi, sir?" a hotel page in a Nickelodeon-orange uniform snaps me out of my daydream.

With Affection,
James

Chinatown Eats

Hello, Friends!

I love eating Chinese. The meats are usually lean, the flesh tastes sweet and the bodies, pliant. I still remember my first Chinese trick. He moaned ever so softly, like he was trying to hold it in. And whenever he did, he'd bite his lower lip. It was the sexiest thing in the world.

Oh, are we talking Chinese food?

I'd eat Chinese every day, if I could, honestly. The mere mention of Grease, Carbs and MSG may be enough to give your personal trainer a coronary, but there's some perverse pleasure in allowing char siu and siu yuk fat to happily course along one's arteries. It's just like pumping gas into your SUV.

Singapore is a boiling cauldron of South, Southeast and East Asian food culture - and Chinatown is its blistering epicentre. It's so sweltering hot inside the hawker centre, you can feel sweat dripping down your thighs whilst queued up for a prized plate of popia. You can't move an inch without bumping into something edible - be it fresh, cooked, dried, or literally alive. I saw frogs that, mere moments later, appeared in Hayli's congee.

I found deer meat and therefore had to order it. It's all about experiencing new things, right? "You're eating Bambi," Julio said with a note of accusation in his voice, then proceeded to reach across with his chopsticks to tweeze a heavily sauced piece into his mouth.

There's nothing inherently gay about the Chinatown experience in Singapore, although if you're lucky you might bump into some scrumptious party boys just stumbling out of clubs in search for a bowl of mee siam. If you're even luckier, said party boys may look good enough to eat - and they just may decide that you'll make for a tasty meal, too.



With Affection,
James

Julio

Johan

Pierre

Chris

Roddy & Julio

Lore

Hayli

Caroline

Frog legs congee

Deer meat with egg on rice

Popia

Golden kiwi fruit - sweeter, softer flesh

Johan drops a dollar coin into his laksa, then struggles to find it

The damage

Partying... in Chinatown?