Monday morning. Here at the coffee stand, as I am every day.

Yesterday I wore my elephant pants because I was lazy, but today I am dressed up in my professional clothes from Hong Kong. I am wearing one of the business casual looks I would have worn to my job there so I can be motivated to work on job applications and other important things today.

I can hear the voice of my father from the beyond saying, “The party is over. You are cut off. Time to find a job or else.”

Alright, alright, alright.

Jeez.

I went out to the American Bar for dinner last night but have nothing interesting to report. It was dead so I just sat there and watched rugby with the bartenders while I ate my grilled cheese sandwich. I have absolutely no idea what goes on in this sport at all. I’m just here for the hot beefcakes with cute butts.

I called my grandmother this morning and told her I was learning more about my Irish heritage and how excited I was to feel connected to that side of the family again. She, being the most direct descendant of colonizers there is, immediately got huffy and said, “What about English?”

I told her I already dated an English guy and he sucked. Again, she got huffy and said, “Well you can’t just judge an entire group of people based on one person.” Literally no one is saying that, Mrs. WASP Queen. Besides, why are you getting so defensive of the English? I thought we were members of the DAR, meaning we are decided NOT English and in fact went to war against the English so that we didn’t have to be part of them anymore.

Ridiculous. See how divided my family is? No wonder it’s all fallen apart and nobody ever speaks to each other. This woman can’t even listen to me talk about Irish people for one whole minute without trying to direct the conversation back to herself and her inbred English colonizer family tree. We have talked enough about you and your family tree. We’re not talking about your family tree anymore. We are talking about MY family tree, and MY family tree has a fuckton of Irish blood in it thanks to my dad and grandmother, both of whom are DEAD. I have completely lost touch with their side of the family since they died and now I’m finally getting that connection back. I am allowed to explore this part of my identity freely. You don’t get to decide which parts of my identity I connect with. You did it before with the Native Americans and you’re doing it again now with the Irish. Stop with the colonizer bullshit already. It’s making me feel oppressed. You’ve spent my whole life trying to erase this side of me and I’m not letting you do it anymore.

Wow, I didn’t even know I had that rage inside of me. That’s a real thing I can feel inside of me. That fire just rose up and started burning out of nowhere. Jesus. Where did that even come from?

Wild.

Meanwhile, I went through my ex’s Instagram and checked out all of the posts he made after he left me alone in Dubai. What a piece of fucking shit. I was so pissed off when I was going through the pictures. Like, this is what you’re out here doing while pretending to cry to me about being oh-so-lonely and lost? He’s such a piece of shit. How dare he. UGH!

So I got up this morning and wrote him a note and told him to stop bothering me and that I don’t want him back. He’s like, “Wah wah wah I haven’t met anyone else since you, you’re the only one I need.” And I’m like “Yeah, well, I’ve fucked four guys since I’ve been in Bangkok, so that sounds like a you problem to me. I’m a good woman and I deserve better than your whiny, immature, noncommittal bitchass. Imma head out. Bye, Felicia! Enjoy paying Belarusian sex workers for blowjobs and empty, meaningless sex.”

Get the fuck out of here with that bullshit. I can’t even.

Blocked for life.

Gross.

My taste in men is absolutely terrible. Yuck. Team No One, Team No One. Team Get A Job, lol. Team Get Motivated. Team Fuck the Haters.

Anyway, that’s exactly what I have to go do now. Nothing else interesting to report. Just gotta be disciplined, get motivated, and work, bitch.

On a seperate note, I just re-read Bloody Mary’s Bar again for the first time in a few years. I still don’t understand what’s wrong with it. Why are these people SO mad about it? Nobody knows. Nobody cares! I just made a post about it on Instagram and the page stats blew up again. Works every time. Website traffic slow? Just run a special feature on Bloody Mary’s Bar. That milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, lol. Every time without fail. It’s so popular. They are so popular. People love it! So why the fuck are they all SO mad?

We have no idea. We will never understand. I told them upfront that I was writing a book about them and they insisted that I was doing something bad, wrong, harmful, hurtful, dangerous, delusional, deranged, whatever. Now here we are 10 years later and people are still reading the book and their insane overreaction to it looks worse and worse with time. It especially looks bad now that I have written another book about a different bar on the opposite side of the world and no one is banning me for life or calling the cops on me or screaming at me in the middle of the street. So, yeah, like, sorry, but who is the one acting “so deranged” now? The writer who said from the start that she was a writer and wrote a book and is now writing even more books, or the crazy people who tried to start a town-wide mass smear campaign to stop the writer from writing anything ever again?

Gee, I wonder.

Anyway, I really do need to go now. Have a nice day!