Wednesday morning. At the coffee stand.

Thinking about how badly I just fucked up this week. I stepped into some pretty deep shit over there, didn’t I? Oops. Now I am sitting here processing what has just happened, which seems to get worse as time goes on.

What did I just do while under the influence of alcohol, drugs, and sex? Let’s review: I let the British Guy come back over even though he a wanker, I found he’s a total piece of shit, then in my desperation to rid myself of his colonizer energy, I turned to a random hot man in the bar for comfort, only to find out that he is also married with a new child! And then I wrote about it and used his real name and said he had a small dick anyway. Now everyone at the bar is reading and I have the worst feeling that I am somehow about to get into trouble.

lol!

Hilarious.

Not so hilarious at all.

Europeans are such a trip. This is why my ancestors packed up and left and came to America and fought the Revolutionary War. This is some fucked up bullshit. It’s also hilarious to discover that I, a person who is the descendant of English and Irish peoples, cannot be around them without some kind of metaphorical bomb going off. Yet another reason why my ancestors left both England and Ireland. I totally get it now.

Wow, what was that?

This is like what I imagined Jabba the Hutt’s palace to be like in Star Wars. That’s not a good sign. I need a change of scenery. Perhaps I should just get the fuck out of SEA altogether? We’ll just fly right over Europe for now.

Eat Pray Love indeed. Am I all loved up? Oh, yes, Uncle, I am. All loved up by one of your lovely Irish friends, who definitely should not have been leaving the bar with me to come back to my apartment. They say he was very “pissed,” meaning drunk. He must have been very drunk to forget that he had a wife and baby at home. Of course he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Why would he be wearing that?

Ugh.

At least we have finally answered the age-old question of “How drunk can an Irishman get?” The answer is… drunk enough to forget they have a wife, apparently.

It’s kind of funny when you think about it, lol.

I’m just joking, of course. It’s not really that funny at all.

I need to make a choice about what I’m doing with my life. Or at least what I’m doing in November. I should probably take a break from Bangkok after everything that just happened. Maybe get away from the ticking time bomb that is the American Bar. I think I’ve had my fill of the Big Changs for awhile.

I gotta go back and fix the name issue. I can’t use real names. That’s the part where I fucked up the most. That’s the thing that will get me into the most trouble.

Now I am just sitting here watching the street like, “Okay, so that just happened.”

At least the Irish Guy was hot… and a good kisser. The British Guy was so bad in bed and he was just the worst kisser. The Latin American guys were overall much better in bed and generally just better people. Team America all the way.

Maybe they are right. Maybe I am delusional. At least it makes for a good story, right? It actually sounded pretty good being read aloud in an Irish accent at the bar, lol.

How do I feel right now? Well, I think I was angry and sad last night, but then I decided to let it go and just chill out instead. I aspire to be Thai levels of chill when things go wrong in my life. It’s not worth getting angry over. This man made a choice to do what he did. That is not on me. I am single and ready to mingle. I’m just out here picking up sampler platters on the international all-you-can-eat buffet. I thought I would try Irish. It turns out there was a bomb in the Shepherd’s Pie and it all blew up in my face. That’s life!

What are you gonna do? Nothing.

At least I’m getting plenty of content for my next book, lol. Don’t you just love watching me write it live on the internet for all the see?