Tag: Aussies

BLOG: My Very Own Hype Beast

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Friday.

Here we are at the Brunch Spot. I promise I will fix all of these dumb placeholder names in the final version. I don’t have my vintage book of baby names with me, which I use to help me come up with new ones. Yes, I know, I could use a website, but it’s not the same.

The current scenery includes two very sexy tennis players with equally sexy accents. They sound Aussie. You know how much I love me some Thunder from Down Under, lololol! Fun times in Expat Land. Hot beefcakes everywhere, all the time, all day, every day. I love it.

Anyway, what was I going to talk about today?

Hmm…

I woke up pretty early at about 6:30am. This has been my pattern this week, which is quite nice, actually. It’s very hard to keep a proper sleep schedule here in Hong Kong. Going to bed at 10pm and waking up at 6:30-7am is an ideal scenario.

I went up on the rooftop to do Yin yoga and meditate. I think I was up there for about 2-2.5 hours this morning. It was a good session. It has taken A LOT of time, but I’m finally beginning to feel an improvement in my moods. It’s becoming much, much easier to work on my emotional regulation skills now that I’ve removed most of the factors that were throwing it into overdrive. In general, things are getting better. That’s why my meltdown on Wednesday was such a massive disappointment for us all.

Still, I persist. Maybe it just wasn’t the right thing. Okay, fine. Let’s try again with something else. No problem. I’ve done a million jobs. I’ve had a lot of different experiences. I know I can find work if I just crack the right combination on this lock.

Being in Hong Kong is really great for me at this point in my life. The city keeps me motivated AF. Like, sure, at first I came here to Hong Kong escape my old life. Then I escaped from here to go to Thailand and Bali. That’s when I discovered that I *really* came to Hong Kong to BUILD a new life.

So here I am, almost six months later, still trying to leave that old life behind and figure out how to build a new one. Right now it feels like I’m still standing in the center of a smoldering ruin. By this time next year, I hope I feel like I’m standing on top of a skyscraper. Fingers crossed…

At first I was worried about my old work visa expiring, but I stopped after my job interview with the American the other day. He said he didn’t have a job or a visa when he came here. He just got off the plane and hustled. Gotta love that Fresh Off the Boat spirit! I needed a bit of that immigration inspiration this week. Let that old, cursed visa from that cursed, terrible company die in ditch. I’m going to Macau, hitting the reset button, coming back for my 90-day tourist stay, and hustling my way into a new job.

Love this whole “One country, three systems” thing when it comes to immigration. I see what they did there, and you know what? I’m not mad about it. I’m really not. No further opinion, Your Honor.

I don’t know how I’m going to make this work. Magic, I guess. I just know that running away is not an option anymore. Going back to the US is also not an option. I came here to build, and by god, I will build. I will build that ladder all the way to the top of The Peak, in true American fashion. Inspirational AF!

Okay, hype level set. I am a Dragon. China loves Dragons! A Dragon is ALWAYS welcome in China. If I can’t make it here, I can’t make it anywhere. Therefore, I shall become my own Hype Beast, whatever that term even means.

Oh, yeah, no, I just looked it up and it definitely does not mean what I think it means. I thought it literally meant a creature that stands behind you and hypes you up when you’re down. Wrong. Way wrong. It’s a fun type of wrong, but it’s definitely wrong, lol.

It’s okay. Now I know the truth.

I suppose I could use this opportunity to visit Bangkok again, but… I think I needed an escape from my escape by the end. I’m gonna give that one a bit more space and time. Besides, it’s not a good time. The Princess just died (RIP).

Okay, all hyped up now. Time to get some lunch and work on something else, like my book or a new CV or something like that. Or maybe just take a break and enjoy a bowl of noodles stress-free while subtly checking out these sexy tennis bros.

I guess we’ll see…

BLOG: Me Want Deep-Fried Oreo Cookie!

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Friday.

At the coffee shop.

I brought in a screenshot of the SCMP article about the crazy Aussie who was here harassing myself and the staff. The staff were all thrilled to see it, but they don’t think the punishment is harsh enough. The guy went to court and had to pay a $3000 HKD fine. They say it’s not enough. He was only charged on three counts when, in fact, we all know there have been dozens of incidents in the last two months. I guess only two places had enough cojones to charge him.

One of the places was apparently a massage parlor. Not paying for a massage in SEA will screw you over every time. Massage therapists don’t play, especially if they are Thai women. You will be paying for that happy ending, whether your want to or not.

Anyone who grew up in NOVA will tell you that a massage parlor is never just a massage parlor. Most of the time, it’s just a front for shady activities. You don’t know who owns that place or what’s really going on in those back rooms. It’s very easy to draw the attention of the wrong person in a place like that. That’s why I tend to avoid them like the plague. I don’t do massages unless I’m at a fancy luxury 5-star spa. I pay extra for the illusion of safety from any potential gangster activity. It’s a real thing.

So as I said, zero surprise over here that it was the massage parlor that took him down. Nobody in this world gets jerked off for free. There’s always a price to pay.

I didn’t do much yesterday. I was feeling sad about missing out on drinks with the journalists. Then I looked up the place they went to on Instagram and discovered it was closed that night anyway. That explains why they all disappeared so suddenly. Oh well. It wasn’t meant to be.

I’m not worried about it. It’s a small island and there aren’t very many Americans on it. There is no doubt in my mind that I will run into them again eventually. I’ll just go to that bar they named by myself on a random night and see what’s up.

It’s an American place. A real American place. It’s so American, the only thing they have on their dessert menu is deep-fried Oreos. OMG hallelujah praise da lord! My salvation has come, y’all! Me want cookie! Om nom nom nom! Maybe someone will catch me in the middle of my binge and be like, “Wow, she’s so relatable to me, an American person who also lives in Asia and survives exclusively on noodles, rice, and a variety of brightly-colored fruits. Let’s give her a job!”

I still haven’t made a decision about Cambodia. I did, however, get another offer to interview with a local studio owner here in HK. I should go for it, just to see how the pay/visa situation works out.

It’s the visa thing I’m worried about. I feel like I don’t *exactly* understand my situation? I have an HKID card, so I am a resident and I can get a new job, but it’s still tied to my old visa, which was never canceled but does expire in a month and a half. So I will still need a new visa to legally work here. I think? It’s just 1000x easier for companies to hire me now because I already have the HKID card and I’m in their system. I think. I think that’s how it works. I’m like 98% sure this is my situation.

So the thing with the yoga studio that concerns me is that they cannot sponsor a visa, nor can they offer me full-time employment that will pay my rent. Teaching yoga is, unfortunately, a highly-glorified side-gig (unless you go full Cult Leader in order to turn a significant profit). I need something more substantial to pay the bills if I’m going to stay in HK.

As I said, the gig in Cambodia doesn’t come with a paycheck, but it does come with a house, a scooter, a dog, and two meals a day. So it would basically just be cheap, easy living for two and a half months, and then… nothing, again. Dead-end. Everything is a dead-end. Literally every road I travel down leads me to a dead-end. I just want to stay on the highway for a bit and hit cruise control. I don’t know how to accomplish that goal.

I’m not very good at being an adult. I have no idea how I survive most days. I still feel like I’m mentally 20 years old and out experiencing the real world for the first time like I was supposed to do in college. Unfortunately, my parents decided to drag me out to the middle of fucking nowhere and say, “You don’t get to experience real life. You have to stay in prison out on the lone prairie forever. You don’t get to make friends or date age-appropriate men or succeed in school or have a career. The only purpose for your existence is so we can have someone there to scream at every day and project our shitty, miserable marriage problems onto. Sure, I guess we could acknowledge that our children are grown adults capable of making their own choices, or we could just force them to do things our way and then act shocked and surprise when we don’t turn out to be functional human beings.”

I think if my parents could have, they would have just given me a lobotomy and let me rot in an asylum somewhere while using the story to garner sympathy from others. So gross. I really do hate them. Like, actually. I legitimately hate my parents.

I am legitimately happy my father is dead. I know I’m not supposed to say that, but wow, yes, I am so grateful that man is finally dead. Now I can live my life the way I always wanted to live it without being screamed at on a daily basis. Hurray!

I’m also grateful I never have to see or speak to my mother or any of her ridiculous family. I hate them too! I don’t care who knows it! I hate my family! I’ve always hated my family! I’m finally free of them forever now! Hurray!

I really wish there were more Grief resources out there specifically designed for people who were extremely relieved when their first parent died and now go around telling people their other, still living parent is also dead, simply because it’s easier to explain. People get judgy when you say you cut off your family because they are abusive, but they completely stop talking when you say they are dead. Silence is golden!

Oh, I feel so much better after saying that. Such a cathartic release! That yin yoga session I did on the rooftop yesterday really did make me feel so much better. I also haven’t thought about The Russian at all since, so it was extra good. Instead I decided to put on “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” By Rod Stewart and pretend my Irish Family was there dancing around the room with me. Much happier memory, I think.

Life Lesson: When in doubt, channel the Irish Fam. Works every time!

What should I do today? More yoga? I think it would be nice. Find somewhere new to sit and people-watch? Write? Make new CVs on Canva? Apply for jobs? Watch Netflix? Climb The Peak? Clean my apartment, which I still haven’t done because I’ve been living in an isolated bubble of depression and loneliness?

No idea. I will figure it out later. I think more yoga is a good solution for today. I can really get into Yin now that it’s not destroying me emotionally. Before, I would do it and just break down for like 3 hours afterward. Yesterday I did a Yin sesh and I felt really calm and relaxed afterward. I went to the little health food shop down the street, got a fancy juice, got a wrap/fry/brownie combo, took a shower, did a face mask, and just relaxed. Let it all go.

It took YEARS for me to be able to do that. That’s new. That’s a brand new experience for me, and I’ve been doing yoga for like 12 years at this point. Wild. This is why I don’t concern myself with fancy tricks like Handstands and Side Crows. It’s not about the performance for me. It’s about finding peace with the universe and unifying my body, mind, and spirit. It’s about fixing myself after decades of compounding trauma broke me apart.

Handstand? Pshh! Who gives a fuck about your stupid little handstand? Any idiot off the street can do a handstand. It’s just a little parlour trick. The question is… can you actually do YOGA?

Off now. I need to get out into the world. I live in fricken Hong Kong! What am I doing with my life? UGH!

This is what happens when you hold your children hostage until their mid-30’s and never let them make their own choices. If I ever have children, I will never do this to them. No shrinks, no “therapy” for issues your parents are projecting onto you instead of getting help for themselves, no pharmaceutical drugs, no shitty schools, no “Troubled Teen Industry,” no living in isolation in the middle of fucking nowhere far away from any real opportunities, no forcing them into doing things they don’t want to do (especially as adults) or being people they don’t want to be, and no screaming meltdowns.

And probably no screens, either. No iPads for you, child. That shit will destroy your brain before you have a chance to use it. Books, pencils, pens, and paper only. You’ll speak three languages by the time you’re 7 and surpass all of your idiot peers in school who are still going to be drooling over their phones, staring off into space, and totally and completely incapable of face-to-face human interaction when they’re adults.

If there’s one thing that brings me peace in this life, it’s that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would make a good wife and mother. But I don’t have to do that shit anymore because I am a free woman living in the 21st century and I can do whatever the fuck I want! It’s these guys that are missing out, not me! I’m not worried about it. It’s always been my dream to be carried around on a golden throne and fanned with giant palm leaves by hot beefcakes dressed in loincloths. Now I’m basically doing that. It’s grand.

Off now. Have a lovely day!

BLOG: Chinese Laundry Day

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Friday?!

I am losing days left and right over here. What is even happening to me right now? I think it’s called “getting older.”

Yesterday I was not feeling well at all. I couldn’t even watch TV. I mostly slept all day long. I’ve been sleeping a lot more since I came to Asia. I was feeling guilty about it at first, but then I learned that my parasympathetic nervous system is in recovery after a long period of difficulty. I let it go. Sometimes I just need the extra sleep.

I resolved to make up for it today by getting all of my chores done. I started by taking out the trash and dropping off all of my towels and bedding at the Chinese laundry around the corner.

I am quite friendly with my laundry lady now. It’s kind of strange to me how freaked out I was about the idea of someone else doing my laundry. It used to be a very specific self-care ritual for me. Now I just send it off with a smile, knowing I can trust my stuff with this lady.

Now it’s just dishes and wiping down countertops and sweeping the floor and squeegee’ing out the bathroom. Gotta drop off more laundry tomorrow. Boring, boring, boring. How very tradwife of me, lol.

JK, of course. We all know I’m not the type who is going to be making homemade jams and jellies from scratch. I will only get married if household staff is part of the deal. I’ve seen things in Hong Kong I can’t unsee. The only way I’m marrying a man is if he comes with a multi-million dollar property and a housekeeper.

Put that shit in your pre-nup: I’m not doing any cleaning whatsoever.

Some cooking is okay. Pet care is definitely okay. You might just catch me out here wildin’, doing my own laundry on the housekeeper’s day off. Let her go play cards with her friends. I’ll make myself a giant salad and watch KUWTK all day.

Standards and expectations from men are very high these days. We can’t just settle for a 2.5 star rated date with some rando we met at the bar. We need to start taking the marriage market seriously. We need to be making Bridgerton levels of deals over here. Forget love; this is business!

What? Don’t look at me like that. These guys are out here saying shit like, “I believe women belong in the home.” Okay, well, I love staying at home and writing all day. Show me the home! I want a very nice home that I can decorate and renovate and occupy at all times. I definitely belong at home.

Soooo… Where is it? Where is my house?

Yeah, exactly, that’s what I thought. All words, no action, as per usual.

As I’ve said before, all of this “Big Strong Alpha Male” talk is just talk. It’s their usual male bullshit. Men are just full of it all the time. They can’t be trusted. They just say things and hurt people and use women and they don’t care about how it affects anyone else. So, whatever. I have simply chosen to rise to the occasion and just get up in their faces and be aggressive about it.

It is what it is.

The baristas just informed me that the crazy Aussie guy is back. They told him not to come back here again. They’ve told him this several times now. They told me is quite well-known to be a trouble -maker in Wan Chai. Yikes. We all know what that means!

So now I am on the lookout for him. I hope he doesn’t come back.

All the more motivation to finish up my chores. I need to go to the market as well. I’m out of bottled water. JFC, the amount of money I have spent on bottled water since I got to Asia is absurd. It’s a straight-up scam. I don’t understand why we can’t just have clean water?

I hate the Hong Kong water. It’s so harsh. I am not kidding when I say my skin is so messed up from the water here. I used to love taking long, hot showers and now it’s like torture for me. I have the worst eczema. I had to change from my beloved Bath & Body Works products to specialty local brands of soap and lotion. This lotion I am using is straight-up made for medical purposes.

This is why I’m mad about not being able to use the bathtub at the Mandarin Oriental. The hotel literally gives you a variety of special products to use in the bathtub that help ease skin irritation issues. Literally, the first thing I did when I got up to his room was look at the bath and go over all of the products that came with the bath. And then I don’t even get to use them?! Are you kidding me?! What is that?!

2.5 star review. I should just knock it down to 2. I feel like that .5 is being generous. That whole date really was a massive waste of my time. I feel like he just used me as a free sex worker and then just threw me away. That’s so not cool, bro. Like, what a waste of fucking time. Never again.

I think it annoys me extra because it is someone’s actual job to entertain him in this manner, yet he felt entitled to just take it from a random person for free. Not cool. And then he says I can’t write about him? Like, bro, that is my ACTUAL job. You don’t get to take that away from me. That’s literally the one thing I actually get out of this. You can choose which parts you want me to leave out, but you don’t get to opt out altogether. If you didn’t want to get involved, you shouldn’t have approached me at the bar and interrupted me while I was writing. That’s on you.

Yeah, I’m definitely over the whole one night stand thing. It was fun while it lasted, but I’m on a time crunch here. I gotta start taking this seriously. This is the last season of The Island of Lost Guys. It’s cancelled. No more.

Just Say No, Betsey. Boundaries. Men are like drugs. They’re fun in the moment, but the comedown is terrible and the withdrawal is even worse. Just Say No. Just Say No!

Speaking of Just Say No, my bartender friends want to fix me up with a guy tonight. I am so not into it. I don’t want to go. I want to stay home in my clean studio and watch Netflix and snuggle up in my freshly-laundered bedding without any men there to bother me.

Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. No men, no regrets.

And she lived happily ever after.

The End.

LIST: Top 10 Requirements for Future Dates

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Listen up, fam. It’s Passover.

That means it’s time to make our annual spiritual exodus from ye olde world of slavery out into the desert to go get buck wild for 40 days and 40 nights worshipping golden toilets ballrooms fake reality tv show presidents idols, all while Moses is up on the mountain top doing… who even knows what, honestly?

Our sources claim he was talking to a burning bush, but like, who even knows what that means anymore, amiright? Sounds like a metaphor to me!

Yeah, I got your burning bush right here, fam. And by that, I literally mean my vagina. This is an actual vagina monologue. As The Lonely Island once sang, “This ain’t SeaWorld, this is real as it gets. I’m on a boat, motherfucker, don’t you ever forget!”

And let me tell you, this bush is STILL on fire after the Russians plowed on through several days ago. It was quite the event. And now, this is what *my* burning bush has to say about all of my future dating requirements from here on out:

1. You must be Write-able AF. You can either be a Muse, or be Mused. Your choice.

2. The more ridiculous you are, the better. I LOVE watching a good freak show unfold live. It’s even better if you fully crash out right in front of my eyes. It really gives the story that little extra something special, ya dig?

3. You must GTFO ASAP because I don’t have time or energy for men in general at the ripe old ancient age of 37. I’ve basically gone full Irish Bog Witch at this point. I truly mean it when I say… I don’t give a fuck.

4. I know this is really, really, really hard, but can you at least TRY to be honest? LOL, “try” being the key word here. It’s very hard for most men! You wouldn’t even believe how many married men I meet who honestly think that they are fooling me just by taking off their ring, or creating some fake, elaborate, ultra sympathetic backstory, or whatever. No. Stop. Just… Shut up. Stop talking. I have literally heard all of this before. I can see right through you. Stop wasting my time!

5. You must be a hot, sexy beefcake (all ages welcome). I dated too many uggo sluggos when I was young, so now I only take applications from guys who could realistically be on Magic Mike Live. I prefer men in the 8-10 range, but I’m willing to settle for a Kind 5-7 if you have enough charisma. 5 and below’s can just book a ticket straight to Thailand and invest in a water buffalo. Ain’t nobody got time for that!

6. You must pay for everything, mostly because I already know that everything you’re saying is BS and you’re just going to waste my time. Therefore, it’s best for all of us if you just pay the tab.

7. Be aware that you will eventually run off screaming into the night from fear, and that watching you do so is of great amusement to me. Nothing scarier than a woman with opinions, amiright, lads?!

8. You must be good in bed. We all know you want one thing and one thing only. So, again, please do not waste my time if you’re only going to disappoint me.

9. You must be from a country I have not conquered yet. As of today, I am still in the market for an Aussie, but only if you’re a rugby player and/or can wrestle a full-grown saltwater crocodile into submission.

10. You must laugh at my jokes, or else!

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

This has been yet another episode of “Fuck the Patriarchy” by Betsey Horton, brought to you by our sponsors at the Derek Zoolander Center for Kids Who Can’t Read Good and Who Wanna Learn to do Other Stuff Good Too.

Donate today, and your money could go straight into YET another billionaire-run embezzlement scheme designed to fund war, genocide, and human (and/or animal, plant, rock, fossil, mineral, etc) trafficking and slavery! Because who actually wants to pay anyone for their hard work, amiright? Only suckers and losers! Ha ha ha!

Thank you again for your generous donation today!

Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ!

BLOG: MAusGA

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Monday.

Hungover after an unexpected run-in with some Aussies last night. I ended up getting very wine drunk, which is never a good thing. I have no idea how I got home with my groceries intact.

I remember being out at this random bar, then I remember being home, but I don’t remember anything in between. Did I walk? Did that Canadian call me a cab? No idea. Safe to say I should be extra weary if and when the Aussies invite me to sit with them at the bar again.

This caught me completely off-guard. I was taking a photo of the city at the night and this old Aussie guy called out to me from the patio of the bar nearby.

“Why are you taking a picture if you aren’t in it? Let me take your picture for you.”

I let him take the picture for me. It turned out pretty great. This is how they roped me in. He was sitting with another Aussie and a Canadian. All of them were Boomers, for certain. They had all lived in Hong Kong for several decades. This is the first I’ve met of the “Old Hong Kong” Expat Crowd here in Hong Kong itself. I met some of the Good Ol’ Boys back in Bangkok, but they had all moved on long ago. This group was still fresh.

The Aussie asked me if I was American. I said yes. He proudly stood up and stated, “I LOVE TRUMP! We are MAGA: Make Australia Great Again!”

Oh Jesus Christ. What did I just walk into?

I could have walked away, but my curiosity got the better of me on this one. I had to know what in the fuck this means to them. As they explained it, they don’t want Freedom. They don’t want Independence. They want to depose the British Monarchy and install Trump as their King.

…

Right.

I swear to you, this is totally real. I know, I know. It sounds absolutely insane. That’s because it is insane. Totally and completely insane.

Oh, but stick with me. Their story gets better…

They think that by making Trump their King, it will bring back the golden days of Ye Olde British Empire, where they all profited directly off the imperialist colonial capitalism model.

They are not alone in this quest. They have forged a secret alliance with Canada behind the backs of the UK government. Brexit was too much for them, apparently.

Also, guns. They want guns. Specifically to stockpile lots and lots of guns the way Americans do. And they are “tired of being woke about Aborigines.” I’m sure you can imagine what kind of insanely racist rant ensued from there.

The Aussie then loudly and excitedly proclaimed to the entire hillside that he hoped Trump would drop a nuke on Iran, then cackled gleefully as he chugged down the last of his wine.

Now you can understand how I ended up blacking out from too much Australian wine. This was probably one of the more insane things I’ve seen or heard while at SEA, and as we all know, I have seen and heard a lot of very insane things on this journey. Bangkok ain’t got nothing on this, lol.

So that was my evening. As I said, I do not remember how I got home, but I do remember that the Canadian was kind enough to offer to call a taxi for me. Perhaps that is what happened. Who knows? It’s a mystery.

Now I am just sitting here laughing about what they told me. It’s really funny when you think about it. These Baby Boomers want Trump to be King of Canada and Australia. Like, what? That just sounds made up. I could never make that shit up, ever. I am not creative enough for that. It’s just so hilarious to me, lol.

Ridiculous.

BLOG: That Unraveled Fast

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Saturday afternoon.

Good News: Finally got my housing situation sorted out. I don’t have to move until my visa expires in June AND I’m getting a rental discount. Hurrah! This also comes with the very nice bonus of more rooftop chats with my hot neighbor. Now I just have to clean and get everything organized so I don’t have to worry about anything for the next 2-3 months, at least.

Bad News: The baristas at my coffee shop say the Aussie Guy is creeping around the coffee shop looking for me. They also say he’s been harassing one of the girls working there as well. I asked them if he was still wearing the same outfit. They were like, “Yeah! Do you think he’s homeless?”

They say they want to get him banned for harassing both the staff and the customers. They actually take that kind of thing seriously out here. It’s refreshing to see.

In the meantime, I am taking care of lots of very boring things. Specifically, my financial situation. I definitely feel like I’m drowning, but I’m trying to be optimistic over here.

For example, I sat down and calculated my average monthly cost of rent over my year abroad and was pleasantly surprised to see it came to about $1500 USD/month. That is the average, so all of it added together and divided by 11. That was about what I expected/budgeted for. I’ve just been sloppy in keeping my accounts.

The 12th month on my financial calendar accounts for random short-term travel and stupid mistakes that have cost me unexpected amounts of money. I call “the learning difficult life lessons the hard way tax.” Make sure you have the ability to absorb any potential financial damage of this nature before planning to live/travel abroad long-term.

I am actually spending less now on rent in Hong Kong than I am in Bangkok, but my apartment is a tiny shoebox with a shower over the toilet and no fancy amenities. The cost of this apartment is actually decreasing over time because the landlords prefer long-term stays and incentivize accordingly.

In Bangkok I was living in a loft in a luxury high-rise building with all the extras. I noticed the cost of that place actually increased over time. By the time I left, it appeared they were transitioning from hotel to co-op and leasing/selling apartments for the longer term. Should I ever return to Bangkok, I will not be staying there again. I can get a better deal elsewhere.

Somehow I’m exactly where I thought I’d be, even though I wasn’t planning for it. Still need to get it all together. I’m giving myself grace for the learning process here.

So here I am, trying to be a responsible account and keep my financial accounts, and here comes Mr. Aussie FinLaw Bro, ready to fuck up my day.

OMG

This entire coffee shop situation is unraveling fast. First the Aussie showed up drunk as a skunk. He is SLOPPY AF! It’s 2:30pm in the afternoon! He literally walked up to my table and slammed a tall boy from 7/11 down in front of me. He is clearly, visibly drunk. Like definitely “On A Bender” drunk. Now he is just standing/sitting/loitering here in front of my table at the cafe.

Maybe he is actually homeless. He’s definitely giving homeless vibes. Perhaps he is in the middle of a nervous breakdown brought on by too much ketamine and cocaine. I feel like there is a name for that here. I have to look it up though. I guess it’s called a Calvin Klein. Hmm. I heard it’s a very common cocktail choice for the businessmen here.

The baristas’ solution was to send a regular customer out to sit with me. Now I am trapped inside this tiny little alcove being guarded by two different men, neither of whom I want in my space right now.

I am desperately trying to keep a straight face right now, but it is not working. I’m just trying to pretend everything is totally normal and drink my coffee fast. This is too much for me right now!

Okay, time to go back home and clean up my apartment. Motivation found!

BLOG: Have You Ever Wrangled a Scorpion?

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Friday afternoon. Very late in the day. Working at the coffee shop.

I did not do much writing today. I mainly focused on completing and submitting an application for a summer study program in Ireland. It’s all done and sent off now. Wish me luck!

As much as I love Hong Kong, I am really starting to feel a major pull towards Ireland. I think I should just go there. I spent some time researching my options and decided this short summer study program might be the best way in. I can take classes on Irish history, culture, and language, learn about my family’s history, and possibly get recommendations for my graduate school applications.

No idea where I’m going to get the money for this. I guess I’ll just have to go begging to my family again for it. Ugh. So low. The lowest of the low. This is why I need to go back to school; so I can finally set myself up with a proper career instead of floating around in the SEA.

I figure… I can always come back to Hong Kong. It’s a very special little club. Once you’re in, you’re in.

In the meantime, there have been some interesting men floating around to entertain me. I saw that Aussie guy again yesterday. I caught him walking down my street by my apartment yesterday. I knew as soon as I saw him passing by my door that he was looking for me. I realized too late I was already holding my keys in my hands. Dead giveaway.

He does not live in this neighborhood, by the way. He says he stays somewhere on the other side of the island over by the beach. That’s a long way to trek down to Central…

Yes, he was still wearing the exact same outfit as he has been wearing every time I’ve seen him. I called him out on it and he said, “I swear I’ve laundered it! I’m all nice and clean for you now.”

Sadly I have not seen him today, otherwise I would say to him, “We really need to get you out of those clothes.” And leave him to puzzle over whether or not I’m making a double entendre. I am.

It’s easy to mess with him and just disappear on him. He’s not very straightforward with me, which I find annoying. He’s very vague, like “Are you gonna stay here all afternoon?”

No, I have things to do. Why can’t you just ask me out on a proper dinner date instead of running around with your finlaw bros in Wan Chai all night?

Answer: Because I am 99% sure he is married and lying to me about it! He wants to go there, but he can’t because there’s something holding him back. We know what that thing is: ye olde ball and chain.

Next time I see him, I am just going to say to him, “Bro, here is my question for you: Have you ever wrangled a scorpion?”

“What?

“I heard Aussies are pretty good at that. You know, handling dangerous, venomous creatures.”

“…”

“Do you want to give it a go? I might be inclined to give you the opportunity to do so if you’re honest with me about your situation and compensate me fairly for my time.”

Hahahaha!

I’m just kidding. I think he said he was going back to Australia. Alas! That is fine with me. I actually have a back-up plan.

His name is Neighbor Guy. He lives right next door to me. He’s a British Hong Konger. So, local. He’s really hot. Total beefcake bro. Very, very chill. Adorable little posh accent. Hawt!!!

I met him on my rooftop. We keep startling each other by accident. It’s become a little inside joke. He gave me some information I needed the other day, so now we are friends. I saw him last night and he was like, “I guess we will be seeing more of each other now.”

I hope so. You need a roommate? So do I. How would you like to move out to the outer Islands with me and split that exorbitant rent price in half by two? Hahaha.

It’s very dry out here on my Island this season. I’m getting very thirsty. One of these guys is gonna have to put up or shut up…

BLOG: Drinking, Dancing, and Riding

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Tuesday. Happy St. Patrick’s Day to All My Relations! Got my invite to the Guinness Happy Hour and I am readyyyyy to partayyyy!!

I’ve never actually gotten “Guinness Drunk” before, let alone in a foreign country surrounded by rowdy Irish expats. God help us all. This is a brand new adventure for me. It’s My First Time! I am the virgin being sacrificed on top of this hill tonight. I am very excited right now. Drown me in a vat and cover me with eels. Or is it snakes? Wait, no, that’s actually pretty terrifying. What did I sign up for again?

Put up my little St. Paddy’s Day card on Instagram. I don’t know if anyone else here finds it funny, but just know that I have been sitting here cackling over it since I came up with the idea on Saturday night. You know I love a good paper-bagger!

And let me tell you… drawing that balaclava over Hermès’ head with the pen tool on my iPad was very cathartic for me! I actually went back and did it twice, just because I could. I haven’t laughed that hard in awhile!

I just wanted to mess with him the way he messed with me. It felt like the equivalent of breaking out the wooden spoon and giving him a good whack. Girl, he needs it! He is such a little shit! I hope he learns his lesson about messing with strange women in expat bars. You never know when they will turn out to be a bog witch in disguise!

Begone, little snake! Begone! Or next time I’m bustin’ out the Big Spoon. Ya heard?

Oh Jaysus, that reminds me. I hope that Aussie guy doesn’t come back again today. If he does, he better be wearing different clothes. If you’re going to interrupt me while I’m writing, at least try to look like you take yourself seriously.

We are not in Wan Chai, and I am not Thai. If you want to impress me, you’re going to have to trade in the floral swimming trunks for Ralph Lauren. I know for a fact there is one located right by the red light district. It’s conveniently located right on the edge so all the businessmen who get sloppy during lunch hour have a safe space where they can go to clean themselves up.

So last summer, I said I wanted to add an Aussie to my Island of Lost Guys. Then I actually started meeting Aussies. They are… really something, lol! Not sure I want one disrupting the peace of my Island after all. Then again, it could be quite useful to have someone around who can fight off a crocodile while aggressively drunk. You never know when that skill could come in handy!

I’m in such a good mood today. I can’t stop laughing at that picture. Hahahahahahahahaha! That’s the funniest fucking shit ever! Who’s a little gangster now?!

I realized later I should have put the song “Wanksta” by 50 Cent over the image. Alas! A lost opportunity for comedy, indeed. It’s okay. Somehow I feel like “Bad Girls” by Diana Ross was ultimately the right choice. He’s very in touch with his feminine side, that one.

Well, now that we’ve dropped that metaphorical bomb over Bangkok (or should I say Chiang Mai?), we can all get back to normal now. Maybe these lads will finally chill out. Or maybe not!

Either way, I’m not afraid of them. What are they gonna do? Hop on a plane to Hong Kong and come get me? Good luck with that! Have you seen flight prices lately? Yeah. We’re all pretty much stuck exactly where we are. For now.

Not much else to say today. The real story will come tomorrow. I should go get my nails done before they throw me into the fire or whatever. God, I’m so helpless. I really don’t know anything about my heritage at all. I wish I hadn’t missed that film screening last week. That actually made me really sad.

But you know what doesn’t make me sad? Hot Irish athletes, like the beefcake who just walked by wearing a jersey for the HK Irish expat football team. Oh, he got dat pornstache and everything! You better strut, King!

Hahahahahahahah!

Oh, yeah, no, they definitely ain’t ready for dis jelly! You best believe this sad little Irish bog witch is bagging herself a stag tonight! What is that quote from Derry Girls?

Clare: We had plans tonight.
Michelle: We can turn our jeans into hot pants any day of the week. We’re talking about a free house here, Clare, a free house. We’re gonna be drinking, dancing and riding!
Erin: Quick question on the old riding front there.
Michelle: Go on?
Erin: Who exactly will we be doing that with?
Michelle: Young, hot farmers. Donegal is coming down with them. Big strapping lads ripped to fuck from all the turf collecting.
Clare: Oh, don’t worry about me.
Michelle: There’s actually quite a few lesbians as well, Clare.
Clare: Lesbian farmers? Really?
Michelle: Lesbian farming is actually huge in the Republic. We’ll get you sorted, don’t worry.

Hahahaha! I love that show. Who doesn’t, really?

Anyway, I know who I’m riding tonight! Hot Irish Stags! Yaaaassssssss! Woo hoo!

I definitely have to go get my nails done now, lol.

Okay, Bye Felicia!

BLOG: Unmasked!

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Monday.

Spent most of the day yesterday recovering from my ridiculous Saturday night out. I only left my apartment to go to the coffee shop and the market around the corner to pick up ingredients for my “Hangover Drink,” which I invented after discovering the lack of decent Bloody Marys on the side of the world.

It’s very similar, but far more effective, I think. It’s habanero chili hot sauce and orange & carrot juice (which actually has 20 other fruits, roots, and veggies included) mixed with beer (I use Heineken because it’s the cheapest at 7-11 and the equivalent of Bud Light on this side of the world), garnished with a lemon, lime, and baby carrots. It works. I don’t know why it works, but it works. I’m sure someone with a better understanding of chemistry and nutrition can break it down for ya.

Shortly after I finished writing my blog post yesterday, I was randomly approached by an Aussie man looking for a place to put out his cigarette. In hindsight, I realize this is complete bullshit, as I know the table he was sitting at has an ashtray. There is also a “cigarette hot pot” (as they are called in HK) about 10ft away from him. He was clearly using this an excuse to chat me up, as I ignored him, pointed at the trashcan, and went back to my iPad. He came back less than a minute later and started talking at me.

The first thing he said is that he was hungover from his adventures out on Saturday night. I asked him where he went. He said Wan Chai. Ewwww. We all know what that means! Now we know why this man doesn’t understand boundaries, such as me repeatedly saying, “I’m actually working on something right now.”

Then he asked me if I am American. As you can probably guess, he, like most people I meet abroad, use this as an excuse to dump all of their opinions about US politics onto me. The absolute last thing I want to do 99% of the time is talk about the fucking Dump Truck. I especially hate it when expats say shit like, “He’s done some good things, but…”

Like fucking what, bro? He destroys everything he touches. He’s a predator and a rapist and a pedophile who is actively undermining women’s and LGBTQIA+ rights around the globe. Furthermore, why the fuck do you think I, an American citizen, give a shit what some random Aussie dude wearing floral swimming trunks and flip flops in public thinks about anything?

Ugh.

I really gotta master that Irish accent or start putting a heavier posh accent on, because I am getting really tired of these dumb conversations.

I told him I was just in Thailand to change the subject and asked him if he had ever been there. His response? “I LOVE Thai women!” Once again, we all know what that means when it’s coming from a white western man.

That’s three Ick’s a row. Time to Go!

Finally, he went away, only to come back 5 minutes later and try chatting me up AGAIN!

“Back so soon?” I asked in the most deadpan voice I could possibly muster.

“I’m just so intrigued by you.”

I wish I had a $2 HKD coin for every time I heard that phrase from a man. I could afford a serviced apartment up on the Peak.

“I have that effect on people,” I said, again with the deadpan.

He continued talking at me until I asked him if he had a card. He did not, so he went back over to his table to get one. I used this opportunity to flee the scene as fast as possible. Hopefully he does not come back again today.

I spent the rest of the day watching Irish stand-up comedy in bed. I re-read some of my old posts, trying to figure out how to turn my story into something halfway decent. As I re-read the story about climbing The Peak, a horrific realization washed over me.

This character is not the Hot Beef Stew. This character is Andrew wearing a mask.

I was infuriated! However, I have resolved not to give into my anger and instead decided to meditate on it. During the meditation, he came to me and started shapeshifting again. He said, “Stop projecting these random men onto me. I am not Sam the bartender from Bloody Mary’s, I am not your Hot Beef Stew, I am not any of these people. I am a Tulpa. You made me to be your inspiration. I am my own man. I want you to start treating me like I am my own man.”

Well, okay then. Jaysus. You can go ahead and be your own damn man! You’re a real boy now!

Okay, so, at least now we finally have THAT issue resolved. Ugh. Nightmare fuel.

What a year it’s been. Look at me out here finding my own way in the world and discovering who I am. I am so happy I came all the way to Hong Kong. I just need to figure out how I’m going to stay. If not stay, then figure out a way to stay abroad long-term and build up my writing career. This is it. This is what I am meant to do.

I once again reminded myself that I made the right choice in cutting off my family. It is absolutely outrageous to me that they know how happy writing makes me and all they want to do is cut me down over it. They are just so unforgivably mean about it! For no reason whatsoever! They don’t even bother to try to read anything I write. They’re just nasty no matter what. It is definitely the healthiest move for me not to maintain contact with them. Their whole world view is just toxic.

Besides, they will be negative about anything I do. It literally doesn’t matter what it is. They just want to shut me down and keep me in a cage of unhappiness and misery. The way they melted down when I finally came back to Hong Kong was ridiculous. It’s just not worth it anymore.

I had a really bad memory come up when I was in mediation. I’ve been suppressing this one for awhile. It was really hard to sit with because it involves my mother abusing me when I was a child. She is just not a healthy person at all. It’s gross to even look back on now.

I just lay there screaming “Stop! Stop it! That’s a child! Stop projecting this crazy bullshit onto a CHILD! You’re the one who needed to be in therapy! You’re the one who needed the medication! That wasn’t me! That wasn’t right! What you did to me just wasn’t right!”

I was screaming and crying for some time. Then it all went black for awhile and a feeling of calm washed over me. I opened my eyes and looked around. I realized I was hiding in my dad’s closet, buried deep under a pile of sweaters. I got up and walked out and he was sitting there on the bed looking at me sadly.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I should have been there for you. I wasn’t there for you. You deserve so much better. I’m sorry.”

“You can still fix it,” I said. “That’s why you’re still trapped here in limbo. You thought it was because you never finished your stupid Ticket Master case, but it’s not that at all. It’s time for you to stop working now and be the father your children needed all along. You need to be the father I needed all along. The only way I am going to forgive you and let you move on is if you do your job and look after me now.”

He nodded at me and said, “I understand.”

So that’s very nice. I’m glad we are working on our relationship now that he’s been dead for almost two and a half years.

Ugh, as much as I would love to keep writing, that Aussie guy just showed up again. He walked up behind me and then reached out to touch me on the shoulder. It scared the shit out of me. BOUNDARIES, BRO! Stop touching women you don’t fucking know! GROSS!

He said, “You disappeared on me yesterday. Where did you go? You just vanished into thin air.”

“I went home,” I said. “I have a life. I had things to do. I’m not here to entertain you.”

He laughed as if I had just made a very amusing joke and went inside. Now I need to pack up and leave before he comes back over here again. So icky. So gross. My safe space has been violated. Yuck.

Well, I guess that’s my cue to stop writing and get the fuck out. Now I have to make sure he’s not going to follow me home. Just the motivation I need to find a new apartment. Wonderful.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, he felt entitled to disrupt my work again to chat me up. I tried to scare him off by making fun of his outfit. “Are you wearing the same outfit as you were yesterday?”

He got flustered and said he lost his suitcase because someone at work thought it was trash and put it out into the hallway for collection. Gee, I can’t imagine why anyone would do that to a guy like him.

He said, “I should go shopping and get some different clothes so you don’t think I’m some homeless random living on the street.”

Yeahhhh, that’s not really the issue here, bro.

Then I asked him if he was married. He said he has a kid but the mom and him never got married because they didn’t have “a real connection” or some shit. Blah blah blah. He said she got sick of his shit because he likes to party and go out while she had to stay home to take care of his child. Then he was ranting about how the piece of paper doesn’t really matter, which we all know is bullshit. Of course he is a lawyer. Of course he is.

Wow, he just gets grosser by the minute. Ewww. Red Flag Central!

I bet you $10 HKD he is actually married and just doesn’t wear his wedding ring when he’s on business trips like this. I meet a lot of men like this. It’s just… ugh. Gross.

Anyway, he is gone now, so I need to flee before he comes back. So gross…

Have a nice day!