Monday.

Reunited and it feels so good!

I LOVE Hong Kong!!!!!

I’ve been back less than 24 hours. It is officially confirmed: the job was the problem. The city itself and the culture within it are not. I think I love it even more now that I’ve seen what a shitshow the rest of SEA can be. I can properly appreciate its uniqueness as a global city now.

As soon as they announced the plane was entering Hong Kong airspace, I felt it in my entire being. I felt excited, alive, hopeful for the future, inspired, happy, ready to take charge. Hong Kong is the most exciting city in the world.

I even skipped my usual taxi ride from the airport to take the train to the Island proper first, and then I got a cab the rest of the way. I rolled up to my hotel, ready to jump into my big bed and relax with the complimentary bottle of wine listed as an official Gold Member Perk. Instead I got a room with two twin beds and a very amazing view of… get ready for it: a graveyard.

LMFAO!!!!

Welcome to the Hong Kong real estate market, lololol.

The visual symbolism was so on-point, I cried from laughing so hard. It was a very in-your-face way of saying, “Your dreams are DEAD, bitch! So is the Old Hong Kong these white farangs in Thailand remember so well. Time to rise from the ashes and start all over again.”

Good news: Immigration checked in with me. They said, “Welcome back, Ms. Horton. It is good to see you again. It says here you have worked in Hong Kong before. We are happy to have you back. Are you here on vacation now?”

I know that’s what they are supposed to say, but hearing it just hit different after all of my adventures out in SEA.

I didn’t get a straight answer on whether or not my HKID is still active, but the vibe of the conversation left me with a feeling of, “So you’re saying there’s a chance…”

Basically now it’s on my record forever that I once lived and worked in Hong Kong, so if I apply for a job again, there is a 1000% chance that I could get it specifically because I’ve already done it before. That counts for something. This is the motivation I needed to get my shit together and stop fucking around at this ridiculous bar in Bangkok with all of these ridiculous men.

Let’s just keep reliving our cycle of trauma until we finally resolve the karma once and for good, lol. It is what it is.

I feel like this a classic ancient Chinese test. It’s like they’re saying, “If you can’t take the heat of Hong Kong, maybe you would be better off lounging around like a lazy piece of shit in Thailand while everyone caters to your every whim, or cosplaying a wannabe New Age spiritual guru/cult leader in Bali. Try it out. See if you like those options. Then you can come back when you’re serious and ready to work.”

Actually, that sounds more like the voice of my dad’s ghost haunting me than anything else, lol.

Okay, I’m ready to work. Just not for the South Africans because… ew.

Oh my god, they better be reading this aloud in the Old Hong Kong Lounge back in Thailand right now. If you don’t stand up there on that balcony and do a whole dramatic reading for the entire room, I will never forgive you. That a waste of both perfectly valuable theatrical space and charming Irish accents.

I just had a flashback to all of them screaming at me, “You can’t handle the truth!” when I asked them about my handsome mystery Irish Guy. Apparently I can handle a lot of things, including the city of Hong Kong. I think the only thing these guys can’t handle is my Scorpion Pimp Juice.

I’m sure whatever else he’s hiding isn’t nearly as bad as hiding a wife and a kid. He could literally be a professional assassin who kills people for money and I would still be like, “Yeah, but you lied about having a wife and a kid. In what world isn’t that worse?”

I just want you to know that I forgive you for referring to me as a “security threat to everyone at the bar.” No doubt you are hiding some very ugly secrets that you don’t want coming to light. Love that for you all, really, but it doesn’t really affect me.

Stop being mad at me. I’m telling you, magic is real, and that guy did something to me that changed me on a deep level. I guess that explains why he couldn’t get it up. He was using all his man magic to cure me of whatever was making me sick enough to think hunting stag trophies at a random expat bar in Thailand is even remotely a good idea.

Honestly, he wasn’t wrong to check me like that. He wasn’t wrong. It’s fine. That was a lesson I needed to learn the hard way.

It all looks so silly from up here on The Peak, truly.

Just kidding, of course. I’m in Wan Chai.

Anyway, I wonder how many Irish people are in Hong Kong? Do you think any of them happen to also be rich, sexy beefcakes who play rugby in their free time? Because that’s what I’m looking for right now. This man has ruined me. I now have a very specific vision in my mind and it’s going to be hard to find.

I remember sitting here six months ago in this exact same spot, writing in my blog about how much I loved living in Hong Kong. Now I’ve been on a whole adventure and somehow it led me right back to the place I feel like I really belong. For now, I guess.

Hmm… I have to get my Auntie in Bangkok a special gift from Hong Kong since she lived here and worked as a housekeeper up on The Peak for 30 years. I don’t know what to get her. I am keeping an open mind. I feel like it will pop out at me if I’m patient enough. She has been so kind to me. I just want to get her something special to thank her for all the days she took care of me when I was moping over these dumbass men.

Damn, British Guy fumbled this bag so hard. He said Hong Kong is his favourite city in the world. And to think… He could have had an American wife trained in the ways of Martha Stewart and lived on Hong Kong Island. Instead he’s on an island somewhere in Thailand, giving all of his money to a sick water buffalo who doesn’t even cook for him OR fuck him everyday. Suck a big fat one, asshole. You deserve whatever you get.

Like I said, I’m not sure what kind of magic was at work on that crazy night, but I’m totally here for it. Thank you, Mr. Magic Stick! See you… probably never again, lol. It’s all good in the hood, fam. Don’t even worry about it.

I’m glad that he lied to my face. It broke something inside of me that clearly needed to be broken. Like, I’m totally over this dumbass bullshit, you guys. The end.

Wait… so what I’m actually saying here is… he broke me in like a horse?

That’s hot.

It actually kinda is when you think about it. But let’s not go there, otherwise I’ll start writing sexy House of Guinness fanfic and nobody wants that.

I better not see this dude again because he’s living rent free in my head. It’s ridiculous. I have no information, so my brain is filling in all the information on its own, and it’s taking a lot of liberties with the lack of historical documentation of this person’s life.

He must know by now I’m writing about him. I’m sure he’s just sitting there like, “I hope this doesn’t turn into a Fatal Attraction situation.” Trust me, it won’t.

Also… Justice for Glenn Close’s character in that film. That man didn’t take any responsibility whatsoever for his shitty actions. What did he expect, honestly? People aren’t fuck toys you can just use and abuse and throw away when you’re done playing with them. They have feelings, you know. Do I think it was okay for her to murder an innocent animal as retribution? Absolutely not. However, she did make some genuinely good points otherwise…

It literally doesn’t matter. I’ve had so many “boyfriends” in my life. Most of them were just using me to cheat on their significant others with. I’m over it. So when he told me at the end that he had a girlfriend, and I had to go find out on my own that it was actually a wife and child, yes, something deep down broke inside of me. I can’t live my life like this anymore.

Anyway, screw him. I’m over it. I’m in Hong Kong, bitch! My life is awesome!

It’s actually so nice to be back here and not have to be on the job. That job was… really bad. The people were worse. This time it’s better. No conservative Christian, Trump-supporting South African roommate. No racist South African co-workers constantly being negative about every little thing. No insane schedule, no unreasonable demands, no being mocked for struggling with anxiety and jetlag. That place was such a toxic shithole. I will never regret leaving that job, but I do regret leaving Hong Kong.

It’s okay. They’re gonna give me a second chance. I can feel it in my bones. No idea how the fuck I’m going to make the rent thing work, but it’s fine. I’ll figure it out. I always do.

Good thing I threw that epic graveyard party last night. It was lit. It was better than a real party, honestly, mostly because everyone I’ve ever really loved (aside from my brother) is dead. So yeah, the graveyard vibe is lit and I’m here for it.

Well, writing here has been fun, but I want to get back out there and explore some more. I wish I had a music video montage of me just riding up and down escalators and going back and forth on the Ding Ding all day long. Love it.

I admit I’ve forgotten myself, though. I rolled up wearing sandals instead of the hot pink Pumas I used to wear here every day. Classic tourist mistake. All the real Hong Kongers wear tennis shoes.

Okay, time to go for real. I’m sick of sitting around all day being a lazy piece of shit. Let’s get those steps in, fam. The sun is shining, the sky is clear, the weather is beautiful.

Meanwhile, in Vietnam… it’s still raining. Flooding everywhere. Yeah, we made the right choice coming back to Hong Kong on this trip, for sure.

Off we go! Have a lovely day!