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If you're planning a tour of the worst cabaret shows in the world, well then "NewHalf ShowHouse Jordan Pub" in Osaka is a must!
The Japanese are among the most arhythmic people on earth. So, I shouldn't have had very high expectations the other night, especially after viewing some of the talent on offer in some of the new half sex shops the night before. But when you've been recently adopted by a small tribe of mostly-postie Filipinas, and they want to take you to the show they used to dance in, curiosity can get the best of you.
As soon as I walked in the door I knew I was in trouble, when anything I saw in a dress was twice the size of a normal human being, thrice that of the average asian. But they all knew my friends so we sat down in front -- I bought the proverbial ticket, so I was gonna take the ride. Eight bucks a drink or fifty for all-you-can-drink for the duration of the show, about an hour. It looked like I was gonna need all the help I could get, so it was an easy decision.
These girls were BIG. For a second I thought I was at a gay sumo tournament (which probably would have been a lot more fun). One who joined our table literally snorted when she laughed (and she laughed a lot), and I mean a big, staccato snort. And she was cut. And another one that sat down I was incredulous that anyone would put her onstage -- she looked like a middle-aged housewife from Wisconsin (you wanna guess which one?). Also cut.
But, alas, there was the star of the show (not the one featured in the middle), and she was indeed hot. Like, smoking hot Japanese woman hot (any guesses?). And it was her birthday, so of course there was the $200 hairdo and what had to be 5-6000 bucks worth flower arrangements all over the place, all size and shape of professional posters on the walls commemorating the day in grammatically-incorrect English.
So, I lean over to my new pals and ask if the star was too, cut, that is. Turns out, all of em: cut (except for one, she of the more medium-sized of the burly, bovine beauties -- care to guess?). So now I'm sitting in a room full of very plump post-ops.
In Thai cabarets there's inevitably the token portly, ponderous performer that is intended to provide the comic relief. Well, imagine a show that's about 75% that. But with Japanese people, who aren't funny. And have no rhythm. If I saw one more pull-something-out-of-your-pants-that-is-the-shape-of-but-not-actually-a-penis gag I was going to gag myself. And essentially none of the show actually involved dancing. Even the Filipinas said, "That's not dancing. That was walking and moving hands."
The one bright spot in the evening came at the end when the couple girls with OK figures backed up the star and did a number essentially naked. The birfday girl, my hat's off to her, has to be one of the hottest man-made women I've seen in a long time. A magnificent ass that is, according to my sources, natural.
So, that was it. But all was not lost, as one of my platoon of Filipina posties turned out not to be, so the evening ended nicely with my first Filipina . . . who actually didn't want anything from me, another first. We went to a love hotel (yet another first), and she had no balls -- a first!. It wasn't bad, either, the no-balls rig, I don't mind tellin' ya.
I don't know if this has been of any value, but I just kinda needed to get it out, like therapy, or a purgative. I can only imagine it's better in Tokyo, but if this was supposed to be one of the better cabarets in Osaka, I fear for what else is out there. Sadly, though this J-cabaret was my first, it apparently won't be my last, as Stupid here somewhere along the line agreed to go to another "even more better" one down the road . . . stay tuned!
"NewHalf ShowHouse Jordan Pub"
From the Shinsaibashi shopping arcade, turn east at the UniQlo store, and it's about a block or so down on your right, with a sign in Engerish at street level.
The Japanese are among the most arhythmic people on earth. So, I shouldn't have had very high expectations the other night, especially after viewing some of the talent on offer in some of the new half sex shops the night before. But when you've been recently adopted by a small tribe of mostly-postie Filipinas, and they want to take you to the show they used to dance in, curiosity can get the best of you.
As soon as I walked in the door I knew I was in trouble, when anything I saw in a dress was twice the size of a normal human being, thrice that of the average asian. But they all knew my friends so we sat down in front -- I bought the proverbial ticket, so I was gonna take the ride. Eight bucks a drink or fifty for all-you-can-drink for the duration of the show, about an hour. It looked like I was gonna need all the help I could get, so it was an easy decision.
These girls were BIG. For a second I thought I was at a gay sumo tournament (which probably would have been a lot more fun). One who joined our table literally snorted when she laughed (and she laughed a lot), and I mean a big, staccato snort. And she was cut. And another one that sat down I was incredulous that anyone would put her onstage -- she looked like a middle-aged housewife from Wisconsin (you wanna guess which one?). Also cut.
But, alas, there was the star of the show (not the one featured in the middle), and she was indeed hot. Like, smoking hot Japanese woman hot (any guesses?). And it was her birthday, so of course there was the $200 hairdo and what had to be 5-6000 bucks worth flower arrangements all over the place, all size and shape of professional posters on the walls commemorating the day in grammatically-incorrect English.
So, I lean over to my new pals and ask if the star was too, cut, that is. Turns out, all of em: cut (except for one, she of the more medium-sized of the burly, bovine beauties -- care to guess?). So now I'm sitting in a room full of very plump post-ops.
In Thai cabarets there's inevitably the token portly, ponderous performer that is intended to provide the comic relief. Well, imagine a show that's about 75% that. But with Japanese people, who aren't funny. And have no rhythm. If I saw one more pull-something-out-of-your-pants-that-is-the-shape-of-but-not-actually-a-penis gag I was going to gag myself. And essentially none of the show actually involved dancing. Even the Filipinas said, "That's not dancing. That was walking and moving hands."
The one bright spot in the evening came at the end when the couple girls with OK figures backed up the star and did a number essentially naked. The birfday girl, my hat's off to her, has to be one of the hottest man-made women I've seen in a long time. A magnificent ass that is, according to my sources, natural.
So, that was it. But all was not lost, as one of my platoon of Filipina posties turned out not to be, so the evening ended nicely with my first Filipina . . . who actually didn't want anything from me, another first. We went to a love hotel (yet another first), and she had no balls -- a first!. It wasn't bad, either, the no-balls rig, I don't mind tellin' ya.
I don't know if this has been of any value, but I just kinda needed to get it out, like therapy, or a purgative. I can only imagine it's better in Tokyo, but if this was supposed to be one of the better cabarets in Osaka, I fear for what else is out there. Sadly, though this J-cabaret was my first, it apparently won't be my last, as Stupid here somewhere along the line agreed to go to another "even more better" one down the road . . . stay tuned!
"NewHalf ShowHouse Jordan Pub"
From the Shinsaibashi shopping arcade, turn east at the UniQlo store, and it's about a block or so down on your right, with a sign in Engerish at street level.
you da man bennie 
Well, there is the promise of the "even more better" one . . .
JD had no idea what he invented by that description of posties.
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