Tag: Bali

BLOG: Is This A Wong Kar-Wai Movie?

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Thursday.

Back at the Secret Society, to the surprise of literally no one. I can’t help myself. Hellooooo! Who do you think I am?

Same old, same old. All the old men are here. I’ve decided to take the route of politely nodding hello to them and then otherwise ignoring them completely. Not trying to get friendly with a bunch of old married men!

Gee, I wonder why!

I was definitely here the other night as well. Got wayyyyy too friendly with the Filipino bartender, went to a second location with him, and inevitably made out with him.

I know, but like… What do you want from me? He’s my age, he’s hot, he’s covered in tattoos! It is what it is, okay?!

Luckily for me, he is not here tonight. Unfortunately, all the old men are. They’re celebrating someone’s millionth birthday. I’m pretending I don’t notice what’s going on. I just don’t care.

I actually came up here specifically to see the bartender, but he is not here. I cannot remember his name for the life of me. I don’t even know if I put it in my phone.

I just checked and I definitely did not put him in my phone. I guess the feeling is pretty mutual on that one. Thank god for that. I was genuinely worried. Alright, well, glad that’s all sorted out.

Meanwhile, I watched In The Mood For Love today, aka a Hong Kong Cinema Classic. Yes, I have seen it before, but that was a long time ago, before I lived in a tiny shoebox right door to a hot beefcake who I am definitely very attracted to, probably because he either yells at me or ignores me. Hello Daddy Issues! It is what it is.

Today when I watched it, there were no English subtitles. Welcome to my everyday life! Now you know why I stay in my comfy expat bubble, which isn’t actually terrible because here “expat” means “everyone from all over the world, not just specifically white people.”

So, I knew the plot, but I could not remember exactly what was said throughout the film. Therefore I was focused exclusively on the visuals and the vibes. It was a nice experience, actually. It forced me to out down the iPad and actually pay attention to every little detail in the frame. Just for a brief moment, I remembered how I fell in love with movies in the first place…

Then there was the question of vibes. Oh, the VIBES! I felt ALL the vibes. I was like… yeahhhh… this is how I feel about my hot neighbor right now. Problematic AF, as I’m 90% he is not feeling the same way about me. Either way, he’s an actor, I’m a writer, he’s right next door, and this fantasy is going to be projected onto him whether he likes it or not. It is what it is!

I did have a bit of a laugh though. He was hating on me for not having enough “Authentic Hong Kong Experiences.”

Meanwhile, I’m over here watching this movie like… “Wtf are you talking about, bro? I am having the MOST authentic HK experience right now. What do you even think living next door to someone like you is like for me, especially in this impossibly tiny, cramped space?! You do realize you’re a hot, sexy beefcake AND an actor AND British, right? Like, that’s basically a Triple Threat to me. It’s like the universe served me up my dream man then pulled an MC Hammer on me. Like, ‘U can’t touch this!’ RIDICULOUS!”

Yeah, it was depressing. In the end, I thought to myself, “Hmm… maybe I should go to Cambodia, or not, mostly because the vibe there right now is kinda scary. Soooo maybe back to India for my 300hr YTT course. I’ll whisper your name into a giant temple and then bury it with mud and grass. How romantic!”

And then I’ll just move onto the next hot, sexy beefcake because that’s just how it is these days…

Not that I necessarily want that. I just feel like he’s been pretty upfront about the fact that he finds me REALLY fucking weird and annoying. As I recall, he specifically said, “You are the strangest person I’ve ever met.”

He told me who he is, and I believe him. I learned this about men the hard way. Therefore, it is what it is.

That being said… he hasn’t asked me about his mail ONE TIME since using it as an excuse to unblock and re-follow me on Instagram. Just saying!

I did check for it though, because I’m me. Alas!

Anyway… what else did I do this week? Tried to start out the week productive, failed, then decided to re-watch Reservation Dogs to motivate me. I’ve rewatched it like 5 times now, but this time was different. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I’m a year removed from living in SD so it’s not as present in my every day life anymore. It felt like the very strong dose of medicine I needed this week.

If you haven’t seen this show, it’s focused on a group of teens living on the Rez in Oklahoma. It’s one of my favourite TV shows of ALL TIME. It’s fucking beautiful. The main theme of the show is dealing with Grief in various forms. Obviously it hits much different after losing so many family members to death in the last 5 years. I really, really, really needed to watch it way more than I thought. It was so healing. I felt so much better after my re-watch.

Inspired by my rewatch, I decided to go out this morning to meditation with a spirit plate, play the Lakota Ceremonial Songs Playlist, and ruminate on the Sun Dance. I pictured the Tree of Life and relived the memories of the ceremony.

Sure enough, one of my spirit guides appeared at the table. I’m pretty sure I know who she is now. I think she’s the Native woman from Shinnecock Nation my Great-Great-HoweverManyGreats Uncle married. He was a minister who worked with the Montaukett and Shinnecock during a smallpox epidemic that wiped most of them out.

I can prove this by the way. There is a significant record of this. This is not just some random shit I made up. I always felt some kind of connection there, but I didn’t know what it was. She led me to it eventually, but it took me awhile to figure out she was actually related to me and not a random spirit who decided to hitchhike when I was driving down Highway 18 through Pine Ridge and Rosebud.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure it was her because at the end, she said, “Thank you for acknowledging me. You’re the only person in our family who does. The rest of them are out there still pretending to be white. They’re the real Pretendians.”

That made me laugh, tbh.

Anyway, yeah, I don’t feel the need to justify this experience to anyone anymore because I know it’s real. I’m just more comfortable expressing it now that I don’t live in a small town full of crazy people who were determined to burn me alive at the stake every opportunity they got.

I asked her for some practical life advice and she told me to go to the eye doctor. Typical spirit shit, lol. She said, “Bad eyesight runs in your family. You lost your glasses two weeks ago and haven’t replaced them yet. You need to take better care of yourself in that way.”

So I booked an appointment for tomorrow. It’s a different system here. I looked around for the place with the most fashionable frames in HK and made an appointment with the optometrist tomorrow. I admit I’m relieved. Typing this right now without my glasses is actually pure torture right now. Can’t do it anymore. I’m shelling out the money for a prescription this time. That shit is real AF.

I asked her about other things too. Mostly about how to figure out my next step. It’s not like she can “tell me what to do” but she can give me general advice on the best direction to take.

It’s… complicated right now. I just… I don’t know. I don’t know!!!! I mean, I KNOW. I made a new vision board. I just… I don’t know. I feel so stuck.

It is what it is.

That being said, I love Hong Kong. I literally never want to leave this Island. However, I recognize that I am not in the healthiest place right now because of my grief and trauma, and I need to address that before I try to climb the career ladder again. Why not go to the Himalayas and do yoga while I figure it out?

I just have to be more serious this time. Goa was tough because it the first time. Bali felt more like a vacation from reality than anything else. Rishikesh, however… that is The Yoga Capital of the World. It’s very serious. Like… Fuck around and find out!

I need that. I need to be in a place where I can’t sneak out at night in search of alcohol to numb the pain of feeling my feelings. That being said… hook me up with dat Himalayan Kush, fam!

How do they say it in Reservation Dogs, “Weed is the Creator’s medicine, alcohol is the Devil’s work.”

Truth!

—-

Update from later:

Walked into some old man’s bday party. Definitely decided not to get myself involved. After all, I have nothing to say to a group of old married men.

Sat at the bar and minded my own business. Chatted with the bartender for awhile. Luckily, the one I kissed before wasn’t there. thank god. The story she told me was depressing. She was talking about how she has to grocery shop for 6 people in HK without a car. The entire time she was talking, I could not get the picture of my mom loading piles of groceries into the back of the minivan. I used to hate on it a lot, but now I truly appreciate the luxury the American people actually have.

And then we just pissed it away….

—-

Update from later later:

Will tell this part of the story later. To be continued…

BLOG: And The Balls Win Again

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Tuesday evening.

Against my better judgment, I decided to brave the rain and venture up to the Mid-Levels for the Quiz Night I was invited to. The person who invited me is not here. So now I am sitting here at the bar all alone, watching everyone else play trivia, just like I did back in SD. Wow, yeah, I know, I really feel like I’ve come so far in life, lol. Ridiculous.

I really thought my life would look different at this point. I guess it’s true what they say. Wherever you go, there you are. And here I am, alone at the bar, as always.

Damn. I’m disappointed. I was totally all about the Secret Society thing. I guess it’s not a secret if I write about it, lol. Oh well!

I’m kidding, by the way. It’s not a secret at all. It’s like when I worked at “Regal’s Club” back in Verm. It’s technically a private club for members only, but anyone can go there. I had to learn the names of all the members and their usual drinks. I completely get the concept. It’s not lost on me. I’m just make a joke about it being a “Secret Society” because I can.

The good news is that there are some very good looking men in here. There are good looking men everywhere in Hong Kong. The whole island is just crawling with them. They don’t always have the best personalities, but it’s fine. They don’t have to have a good personality. They just have to look good without a shirt on.

It is what it is.

My concern now has turned to how I am going to make it home in the pouring rain. Obviously I brought an umbrella. However, it is still a 15-20 minute walk downhill in the pouring rain. I feel stupid for venturing out on this type of night, but oh well.

Hong Kong is so wild to me. I never know what to expect from this place. I love the song that goes, “You’ll find more than you bargained for when you come to Hong Kong!” If there is one thing I’ve learned this year, it’s that this phrase is true.

I just want y’all to know that including the word “Balls” in an all-male trivia team name is, in fact, a global phenomenon. Men are so ridiculous. It is what it is.

Anyway, I’m looking forward to my mini-break to Macao tomorrow. The hotel I booked is really nice. I got it for super cheap since it’s a weekday and I have membership perks. I love the thrill of getting a good deal on something travel related. I won’t be able to use the pool since it will be raining, but I will get to take some good photos from my seaside balcony, take a luxurious bath in the gigantic tub, and get some writing done at the fancyass desk. I am in it to win it, fam.

Fun Fact: luxury hotels are, in fact, my favourite place to write. I don’t know why. The more palatial, the better. They’re just inspiring. Trust me, I’ve stayed in some real shitholes on my travels. I can’t write in a bedbug-ridden motel off the highway that looks like something straight from a horror movie. I need a terry cloth robe and slippers and room service. Why do you think I keep blowing so much money on that stupid hotel in Bangkok? It’s the perfect place to write! Which is why I always do all my writing at the little sidewalk coffee stand next door.

Oh, I miss Bangkok. I’ve been getting signs from the universe about it again. There’s just something about Thailand…

The problem is that I love it too much. That’s why we cannot be together. It’s not Thailand, it’s me. I’m not a rich old western man with a lot of money looking for a much-younger Thai wife. I don’t belong there!

I’m glad I came out anyway, even if it didn’t turn out as planned. It’s always better to be out soaking up the Hong Kong energy than to be sitting at home watching Netflix and eating ramen noodles and snacks from 7/11. Hong Kong inspires the fuck out of me. I love it here.

I was debating earlier if it was “worth it” to me to give up my dream of living in Paris to come out here to Asia instead. The answer is definitely yes. Paris was always this imaginary dream escape place for me where everything was always perfect. When I was the Paris Writing Workshop, I realized that fantasy was holding me back from exploring the rest of the world and really understanding reality.

Here in Asia, shit gets real so fast. I have no illusions about the reality of life here in Hong Kong, or in Bangkok, or in Bali, or India, or the GCC. Coming here to Asia opened my world up in ways I never expected. I always knew I would end up to be the Peace Corps type. I fully expected that someday I would live in some random little village somewhere in Africa, showering with a bucket and helping out around camp. Living in India was definitely an adjustment, but the reality is that I didn’t mind the blackouts or the monsoon or the bucket showers.

I never thought I would be fighting for my life to stay afloat in a place like Hong Kong, or living it up in a luxury loft in Bangkok, or following around a group of sex workers through the VIP lounges of Dubai, or spend a weekend in a gigantic villa in Bali, or any of the other totally crazy, completely ridiculous things I’ve done in between.

Wild.

The truth is that I don’t need this. I don’t need to write about this, whatever this is. It’s what I call “extra material.” I’ve already charted out the novel/show I have in mind two weeks ago. I got some good feedback on it. I already have an entire plan that doesn’t involve any of this.

If I’m here, it’s because I want to be Liz for a night and just forget that I am an “infamous, notorious writer.” As I always say, I’m just a traumatized woman in recovery who has no idea how to have fun, standing before a crowd of strangers on the other side of the world, asking them to teach me how to have fun.

There is no fun in my world. Only work, which for me sadly means being a prisoner of my own device all the time. I literally have no idea how else to live my life. It is what it is.

It’s too bad I’m not on someone’s trivia team right now. I am killing it with these categories. My new mantra: “You don’t have to love me. You don’t even have to like me. But you will respect my intelligence enough to include me on your team for Quiz Night. And that’s why we will all win whatever this prize is together. Hashtag: Teamwork Makes The Dream Work.”

Lately I’ve been really caught up in reliving past moments when my goals were actively being sabotaged by my mother. Right now I am trying to be present and look at what I’ve been able to accomplish in spite of that.

I’m not comparing myself to any of these influencer types I was jealous of before. I definitely still have goals I haven’t accomplished yet, but even the fact that I got this far is still an impressive feet.

I mean…. Hong Kong. Wow. That’s big no matter how you slice it. I am truly lucky to be here right now. I know it’s complicated and all that, but I love it, and I’m learning a lot, and I don’t regret coming here for even one minute.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say tonight. I’m just sitting here pretending to look busy so it doesn’t look like I showed up for a social event that didn’t actually happen like some total fucking loser, lol.

It is what it is…

BLOG: Keep the Dream Alive

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Sunday. Sitting out on my rooftop on my yoga mat. It’s not the most comfortable writing position. I suppose I could always use a chair or go get my little lap desk from downstairs. Or I can just put my keyboard on my lap and sit up straight.

Here we are with a coffee and a cigarette. Nothing interesting to report. I was going to go to the Latin Carnival last night, but my friend bailed on me so I just stayed home alone. I don’t know why. I saw a couple of other people I know here dancing there on their stories. I could have just gone and met up with them instead.

I am not great at this socializing thing, as much as I try to be. Also, thesis friend always seems to bail when it’s something I want to do. We always do what they want to do. There should be more balance there. I need to widen my circle so I can have my foodie friends, my party friends, and my adventure friends.

I was also in a weird mood last night. Feeling uncertain about the future right now. It’s weighing heavily on me. I hope I can stay, but it’s out of my hands. It’s up to fate to decide now.

The sun is shining too brightly to be writing on my iPad. I will have to stop and go somewhere else.

—

Eventually made my way over to the health cafe around the corner. It’s about 5pm right now.

I spent most of the afternoon looking at the same graduate degree programs in Paris that I’ve been looking at for the last ten years. I’m trying to be practical about my choice. I’m also trying to imagine myself five years from now. What kind of person do I want to be? What field do I see myself working in? How do I imagine myself beyond where I am right now?

Hard to say. I never imagined myself living in Hong Kong or hanging upside down from an aerial silk in the rainforest of Bali or doing yoga on a beach in India or partying with shady expats in Thailand, but here we are.

Here we are.

I was sort of feeling bad about the fact that I haven’t done it already, but I think it’s better this way. For example, the MFA in Creative Writing. Really glad I didn’t do that. What would I even have written about? Nothing! All the good stuff finally happened this year! With more yet to come…

So that’s off the chopping block, which is a relief. I can write about anything on my own time. I don’t see the need for an MFA. At least not yet. I think I would rather do something with a real career path, whatever that might be.

I’m thinking something on the business side of the creative industries. Maybe something like Arts and Cultural Management. I don’t want to give in to my grandmother’s whole business school thing, but after living in Hong Kong… I kinda get it now. It’s good to have that base of knowledge when dealing with the capitalist hellscape of the modern world we live in.

Plus, we all know my skillset in this arena is extremely limited. Writing, creating, making art — easy. Business? Not so easy. Plus corporate language is, in fact, my biggest weakness. What are these people even saying to each other? No one knows. All we know is that they’re all doing cocaine, which is definitely not for me.

I am now back at my apartment, re-watching Emily in Paris for the 80 millionth time. My last couple re-watches were in English, so this time I’m watching it in French. I try to switch it out.

Amazing how my comprehension of French has vastly improved since living in Asia. It turns out living in places where I was completely illiterate in the local language actually helped boost the skills in the languages I do know. Not sure how that works, but hey, brains are amazing. What can I say?

Anyway, I’m just doing this to remind myself I have something to look forward to in the future if Hong Kong doesn’t work out. The dream of Paris is always alive inside of me!

Something to ease my anxiety in this last month of job hunting hustle. It is what it is. I accept the path the universe has laid out in front of me either way.

Off now. Have a good day.

BLOG: The Cure for Loneliness

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Sunday afternoon. Chillin’ in my apartment on a rainy day. There is something very cozy about rainy days in Hong Kong. The thunder is rolling in, the lightning is flashing, the rain is pounding against the pavement, the streets are slowly filling up with water and flooding. It’s the perfect day to stay inside and cozy up with a cup of tea and Netflix.

I feel much better after this weekend. I was very depressed last week. However, I went out and socialized. Hung out with my neighbor on the rooftop on Friday, went out for dinner with my girl friend last night, had brunch with my Irish friend today. Chatted with my best friend on Instagram. It turns out the cure for loneliness is, in fact, friendship!

My friend and I went to a Lebanese restaurant last night for dinner. The food was delicious! I love Lebanese. My friend is a great person to go out to eat with because she has strong opinions about the subject of food. As a foodie, I personally feel this is the best kind of friend to have.

I asked her if she wanted to go to this French place I’ve been dying to try. She said, “No, I want Lebanese.” I sent her suggestions for four different restaurants. She sent me a voice note back with strong opinions about all of them. The one she chose was really good. I officially trust her judgement on this matter.

We went to the French place afterward for dessert and drinks. They have the most fabulous patio! The design of the whole place was soooooooo Parisian! It was straight outta France! The best part was that all of the waiters were extremely good-looking men. All of them. They were wearing the little suits and everything. It was incredible. I was really hoping they would all form a kickline and break out into a Beauty and the Beast style musical number.

After they closed, we walked down to the 7-11 on Peel Street to pick up some cigs and sat outside watching the crowd. At that point, it was about 1am, so everyone was pretty messy. The crowd was mostly skewing very young. Big “spring semester internship abroad” energy, if you know what I’m saying. More fun to watch from afar than be part of. I was watching a live feed of the crowd on Peel Street last weekend and thinking I was missing out on a vital Hong Kong experience. Now I know it’s just the Hong Kong version of Char Thirty, lol.

This morning, I went out to brunch with my Irish friend. He’s pretty chill. I don’t know how to explain the vibe there. It’s very… familiar. It’s like hanging around with a cousin. I am learning a lot from him. Brunch vibes. It’s definitely the same feeling that I felt when I was with my Irish Family in Bangkok. Friends come in all forms. That’s one of the lessons I’m learning here in SEA.

He asked me how I was feeling about The Russian. I said it was still bothering me a lot. He said, “You must have really liked him.” No, I did not, actually. Somehow I remain frustrated about the entire situation. I think maybe what both of us really wanted was an actual emotional connection and it just wasn’t possible in that specific situation, so it’s just upsetting me and annoying me that I did that when I should have just held out for something deeper and more meaningful. It’s less about the man himself and more about my frustration with the entire situation.

We changed the subject after that. He was telling me about the trip he took to Hanoi, Vietnam. He stayed in this old French colonial palace. Sooo jealous. I want to go to Vietnam so bad. Everyone just raves about it! But I have to wait. I need to get my career shit together. No more running off on adventures until I get my job/career/income situation together. Once I have income and stability, I can run off to Vietnam or Cambodia later.

As I am constantly reminding myself every day, I did not just come to Hong Kong on a whim. My life dream has always been to live in a big international city and have a successful career and live in a fabulous apartment. I am here now. I can succeed at this if I just give it the old college try. I can do this. I have friends who are supporting me on my journey. I can ask for help whenever I need it. It’s going to be okay.

I can do this.

I think it’s really easy for me to fall down into a pit of despair and spiral into anxiety mode. I’m grateful that I had so many friends around me this weekend to raise me back up and knock some sense back into my head. I think the biggest lesson I’m learning as an Expat is that we are never really alone. We all have to be there for each other and support each other. I’m not the only one who experiences these feelings of sadness and loneliness or being lost and faraway from home. There’s a whole community. I can’t be afraid to put myself out there and be part of it just because I’ve had a few weird interactions. There will always be some who to help you out when you need it.

After this weekend, I felt a sense of renewed hope. I’ve just been feeling so down. Now it’s like… okay, I can do this. They call it the Hong Kong Hustle for a reason. Get up off your ass and work!

Going to make a cup of tea and re-watch Eat Pray Love for the billionth time now. The main character is really annoying, but I’ve noticed over several re-watches that she’s sort of written in a way that makes it easy to project yourself onto the character and imagine your own journey unfolding across Italy, India, and Bali instead.

I remember I used to watch it and just dream and dream and dream of traveling. I could have never, ever have conceived of myself going to India or Bali, but now I’ve been to both. Now I live in fricking Hong Kong! And before that, I was living in Thailand! Amazing! I am doing The Thing. I am doing The Eat Pray Love Thing. Go me!

Maybe not every day is a good day, but all that matters is that I did it. I’ve done it. I’m out here doing it. I am Living the Dream. Now let’s keep the dream alive and find ourselves an income!

We’ll worry about that tomorrow. For now, it’s time to curl up in my blanket with a tea and enjoy reflecting upon my journey.

Happy Sunday!

BLOG: Shark Fin Soup

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Friday. At the coffee shop. It’s raining today. It rained all last night. The construction was still going on outside until about 2am when the rain started, so the very loud sounds of the drilling were replaced by impossibly loud, extremely terrifying thunder claps. Needless to say, I did not get a lot of sleep last night.

Instead I stayed up late into the night vision boarding and life planning. I was looking at everything I was doing this time last year before Hong Kong. So much hope for the future, lol. Looking back now, I can see why I immediately fell into a deep depression when that first TEFL job went off the rails. Mistake! It wasn’t my fault. This company has a terrible reputation here in Hong Kong!

Still, most people I’ve met out here are better about jumping back fast. It took me more time than I thought it would to jump back. Then again, I was carrying a lot with me when I came here. Like I’ve said, it took me six months just to feel safe in the fact that I don’t have to go back to SD. There was also the breakup, all of the unprocessed feelings about my dad’s death, etc etc etc. I was in pretty rough shape.

Luckily for me, Bali and Thailand’s expertise is nursing sick water buffalo like me back to health, so here I am now. Back in Hong Kong. Recovering after a mysterious set of injuries appeared after I blacked out at the Sevens. Grand.

The good news is that I did get another ping from a source regarding the shadiness of one of those bars, so I’m not wrong to be concerned there might be more to the story. Maybe I was actually followed and attacked? It’s not out of the realm of possibility. I guess I would rather think I fell down the stairs because it’s a more pleasant version of reality…

Anyway, going over my old Pinterest boards always kicks my ass back into gear. I had a plan once. I had motivation. I had goals and dreams and a notebook full of financial worksheets and fancy charts. All of my academic dreams are well within my reach. Ireland is within my reach. The whole world is within my reach. I just have to work for it.

Let’s just channel The Russian’s energy here for a second, just to help me be less messy for five seconds. This is a person who is very educated, has traveled extensively, and started his own business. This is basically just the male version of the person I would like to be. It’s a good thing I fucked him, because now I have his energy inside me and I can be more like that.

It’s like how some Chinese people snort ground up rhino horns or eat shark fin soup or whatever. They do it because they think they’re absorbing the power of that animal. This is my new strategy with men: absorb the power of the animal, which in this case is a scorpion. So just more of the same, but manlier, lol.

That’s actually not limited to the Chinese at all. Wasn’t there an English king who ate a lion’s heart because he thought it would make him more powerful in the Crusades or something? Yeah, Richard the Lionheart. From Robin Hood. I think? Somebody fact check that for me later. I’m in the middle of a flow and now I’m moving on to the part about West African War Lords in eating children’s hearts and snorting gunpowder or whatever.

Hmm… I think I’m starting to figure out why men are so afraid of women, lol.

Anyway, that was a neurodivergent side quest into history. Side bar over. What was I talking about again? Absorbing Finance Bro energy to make myself stronger and more powerful? Yeah, that sounds about right. Somehow this has something to do with making vision boards on Pinterest. I have no idea, lol. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought. Or maybe I just haven’t finished my coffee yet.

I think my goal for the day was to re-do my resume for the billionth time, split it into multiple versions, and start sending it out, again. I was using a local job board, but I have gotten nothing back from it, so I’m switching to a different tactic. Be open. Embrace the chaos. Get that passport stamped. Worry less, travel more. See the world! Save money! Go back to school! Write about it all later!

Hmm.

Too bad The Russian ghosted me. I’m sure he would really appreciate me comparing his dick to illegally-poached ivory products and shark fin soup. I can imagine him doubled over laughing hysterically on the red leather couch right now.

Alas.

I just have to remember: I am not helpless. I am awesome! I am empowered! I’ve made it this far, and by this far, I mean traveling to a dozen countries in two years, attending two yoga teacher training courses in India and Bali, surviving life in Hong Kong after a failed TEFL job, finding my inspiration to write again while briefly living in Bangkok, and adding more characters to my Island of Lost Guys along the way.

I’d say I’m doing pretty well for someone who was intentionally pushed into a mental breakdown after her father died by her incredibly sick-minded co-workers from Starbucks for entertainment. That was three years ago! Wow! And where are those jerks now? Well, one of them definitely went to jail for assault, so there you have it!

Thank god I escaped that place. I hated South Dakota so much. There are no words. I don’t know what’s wrong with those people. They choose conflict and drama every time. Now that I’m far away from it and I don’t have to deal with it anymore or be an active target, I can see how wrong it really was. Sick, sick, sick people. Just sick, twisted, and evil.

Okay. Forget all of that. It’s hard. I still try to drown it out every day. It still affects my confidence. I still have flashbacks about the days I was constantly being attacked online, at work, around town, by my family, by my exes. It went on for years and years and years and years. It’s not easy to forget. I just have to keep adding new memories, new languages, new travels, new stories, new media, new everything to my brain to replace it all.

It is like Kim Kardashian says. “You just need to do so many photoshoots. The good pictures will replace all the bad pictures and soon everyone will forget the bad pictures altogether.”

I can’t remember if she said that in the show or if she said it to me in a dream. That happens sometimes. I have dreams about her coming to me and giving me life advice. Kim K and Paris Hilton. It’s a whole thing. Judge me all you want. I don’t care. I’m willing to take the L on this one. I shamelessly Keep Up and I have no regrets about it.

Okay, I had a mission today. That mission is to get up off my ass and work. Try to find a way to keep the past from haunting me forever. Move forward. Find a new job. Live a new life. Save money. Go back to school. The whole jam.

Motivated AF!

The Chinese guy sitting next to me at the cafe just looked at the bottom of his mug and read his foam the same way one would read tea leaves. How fun! I’m going to try that now. Let’s see what comes up…

Ohhhhhh I definitely got a heart! And a snake. So love is coming, but there will be obstacles along the way. No worries. That’s why I’ve got not one, but two statues of Ganesha, as well as a giant rainbow tapestry depicting him. Obstacles? No problem! We’ll be cruising on through like we’re on a TukTuk ride through New Delhi at rush hour!

BLOG: Stories from SEA

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Thursday. Where does the time go? I have no idea.

What am I doing? I have no idea. Making a mess of my life and my finances in pursuit of my insane dream to become a professional writer. Seriously, what am I doing right now?

I should have just gone to Africa.

Well, I guess I kinda did when I was working for the South African company. That was a very eye-opening experience about the realities of the world we live in.

No regrets. Only adventures and misadventures of all kinds.

Besides, I really do love living in Hong Kong. What a special experience I get to have! I just don’t know how to play the hand I have. I’m working on it, though.

At the end of the day, I’m happy I came here. I just could not live in South Dakota anymore. It’s such a dark memory for me. I see reminders on Instagram and get these terrible flashbacks. I just want to forget about it forever.

New stories! Always new stories!

This year has just been… the time I needed to figure out who I am and what kind of person I want to be moving into the future.

What I’ve learned is that I am tired of dating. I don’t want to have any more one night stands. I definitely want to be in a relationship with someone stable for awhile. No more sadists dressed in leather riding on motorcycles, if you know what I’m saying.

How did I let myself get roped into that one? Ugh.

My friend says it’s “giving whips and chains vibes.” I don’t know what that means. I mean, I do know what it means, but umm… like… how do I explain this?

I’ve only seen that represented in fiction, like books or movies. I hate to admit this, but I’ve seen all three 50 Shades movies and all three 365 Days movies. I know what this is. I’m not wearing a silk blindfold over here.

I just have never encountered someone in real life who was like that. It was really intense. And then they just up and disappear on me like that? That’s not something you casually do with a stranger you just met last night. I know this because I spent several hours researching the topic the other day once I realized exactly what I was dealing with. You would be surprised by how many peer-reviewed academic sources exist on the subject.

It’s just like my encounter with the finance bro doing coke off the toilet seat. I’m not totally naive that this is something normal in this world. I know what’s happening when people constantly disappear to the bathroom. It’s just never been right up in my face like that before.

So to me, a person who has generally been living a very sheltered life out in South Dakota for the last 17 years, things like Russian men casually doing BDSM and finance bros snorting coke off a toilet seat in broad daylight are somewhat shocking to me. I just didn’t expect people to behave that way IRL. Well, I did, just not in front of me. If I was cool enough to be invited to the party, I would have gotten over this stuff in my early 20’s.

And I hear I thought some of the people I met in Thailand were shocking. No, no, Thailand is where these guys go when they want to retire on a beach somewhere with some chick who is 30 years younger than them. Hong Kong is where they get the money to fund their Sick Water Buffalo Farm.

Anyway, circling back, I am now pretty upset about The Russian thing. I feel like I was duped into doing something that I don’t really understand and now it’s hurting me. I don’t think I really understood the psychological implications of whatever we were doing. I told you it felt like some kind of weird scorpion mating/bonding ritual. Now he has completely withdrawn, as is the way this ritual apparently goes, and I don’t like it. At all.

I’m looking back on it with regret because this is just not something you do casually with a stranger. I mean I guess some people are into that, but I am definitely not. I feel like the whole thing is about communication and you need to be with someone long-term to develop the trust you need for something like that. There is no trust with a random stranger.

There is also the aspect that he was in that bar because he had already been there earlier in the day and decided to come back to see the bartender. Then he saw me instead. So he was in there “hunting” and would have gone after her had I not been there. This makes the entire situation worse for me. Like, so he just completely glamoured me and then roped me into this weird sexual fetish he has without my consent? What the fuck!

And then he says I can’t write about it? Yeah, no, screw that. I’m writing about it, bro. This is what I live for. This is what I do. I document the crazy shit that I see in the SEA. Now we have a new story to add to the collection. This collection that is full of stories about sex workers in Dubai, racist South Africans, sick water buffalo, Latin Lovers, Irish gangsters on the run from the law, kratom-induced hallucinations of the Loch Ness Monster, weird wannabe spiritual guru grifters in Bali, hot GAA players, mean immigration officials, old Pattaya boys zapping off tasers, finance bros doing coke and K, crazy Hong Kong Taxi Mafia drivers, wise Filipina aunties, unattractive throuples, Aussies and Canadians conspiring to make Trump their King, and now a Russian who apparently just casually does BDSM with random strangers in his free time on work trips.

Grand! Just grand!

Nope, wouldn’t trade this for the world!

You know what I need to add to this list? We’re all thinking it: boat party. Yes. Put me on that Junk Boat. Put me on the yacht, mini, mega, supersize, whatever. I don’t care what it is. I just want to go party on a boat and watch the shit go down, preferably under a full moon. Powers of manifestation: go!

I think as of right now, Hermès is probably my favourite character. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because of that baby face, but I’ve got a soft spot for him. Don’t want to bang him or date him or even really see him, to be honest, but I appreciate the complexity of his character. I could write like seven movies just about his life alone, and all of them would feature a different beautiful brunette as his leading lady. That’s valuable. That’s my little pot o’ gold right there.

It’s been a good year. I’m grateful to have such a crazy story to tell. This is what I live for! This is all I’ve ever wanted to do. I believe in the story that is unfolding, even if I don’t quite know where it’s leading me yet.

Today is definitely a good day to climb The Peak. As Kim Kardashian once said, “Get up off your ass and WORK!”

Okay, okay, let’s get to WERK.

BLOG: I Think We Lost The Plot

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Thursday. Where did the week go? Oh yes, I know. I spent all day yesterday sucked into Netflix while actively avoiding reality. Nothing like a good true crime docu trio to wake you up to all of the different ways life could go wrong.

I’m not really partial to the murders myself. I like the documentaries about cults and cult psychology. I have watched ALL of the cult documentaries. Unemployment Level 100. I am also fascinated by cult psychology because, as an American, I recognize that my country has been taken over by a very dangerous cult.

This particular documentary was about the FLDS in Utah. It is absolutely terrifying to watch as a woman. I have nothing but respect for Dr. Christine Marie. She is definitely one of my new role models. That documentary was harrowing.

Then I watched the one about the pro cyclist who was murdered by the jealous girlfriend of some loser guy. The girlfriend took off to Costa Rica, where she was hiding out at various yoga retreats. That one definitely made me think a lot. I just looked back at some of the people I met in India and Bali and was like, “WTF were they running from?”

Some of them were really strange and off. As I’ve said before, I’m not sure I would go back to Bali again after what I experienced there. Bangkok, yes. Bali, no.

I found people in Bangkok were generally more open about the fact that they are running away from something. Maybe they won’t tell you what it is, but it’s kinda just the general vibe of the expat community in Thailand. It’s like walking into the Mos Eisley Cantina in Star Wars. You know everyone in there has come from somewhere else to do some kind of shady business. It’s just better not to ask too many questions about it.

In Bali, people are presenting themselves to be something they are not, and what that something is generally involves grifting off of people struggling with mental health, grief, spiritual questions, and a lack of meaning/purpose. I definitely saw some cult-adjacent shit while I was there. I also met people who were just… way, way, way off. Like “maybe they should be in the Hotel California and not running a yoga studio in Bali” kinds of off. Ya know what I’m saying?

It did feel validating in that way. I think sometimes I can be sensitive and take other people’s weird behavior super personally when in reality it has nothing to do with me at all. Like, maybe that lady wasn’t mean to me because I’m a bad person who deserves it. Maybe she killed her husband’s affair partner and went on the run and now she’s hiding out in Bali and she’s worried some writer is going to go snooping around and find out the truth.

Maybe.

Or maybe she was just having a bad day. Either way, this isn’t about me. Don’t take it personally. I’m perfectly grand just the way I am.

Right now I am sitting outside the coffee shop, watching people on the street. I just love Hong Kong. I really do. Every day I wake up and think, “Wow, I can’t believe I get to live here. This is the most incredible opportunity of my entire life. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for it every single day.”

I was meditating last night before bed and the spirit of my Irish grandmother showed up to talk to me. She said, “Do you know what the Irish Dream is? Not the American Dream. The Irish Dream. The Irish Dream is for our children to be free to become writers, poets, artists, musicians, filmmakers. It’s to give them the gift of free time so they can create. You don’t have to slave away at the docks or in the factories or give up your education to take care of a dozen children. We did all of this so you can sit outside on the rooftop and write your book and enjoy life in Hong Kong. Stop feeling guilty about it. Enjoy it. We did it all for you.”

Okay, okay, okay. I get it. My sole purpose on this earth is to Create. I must honor my ancestors by finding a way to become a serious, professional writer. Well, we all know the first two steps: money and a room of one’s own. I have that right now, yes, but how to maintain it over time is a problem.

I don’t know. Somehow I keep making it work. Failing upward, as they say. Perhaps a reminder to focus on manifesting simple things like a fabulous apartment that someone else is paying for so I can just sit there and write all day. Hahaha.

I’m not joking. That’s a real thing. It’s called “patronage.” It’s where rich people give you money and a room of your own so you can create art all day. I’ve actually had several patrons in my life, including my father, my uncle, my aunt, and The Publisher. It really is the best way to go. At least, for now.

That’s what I have to manifest: a patron! Ah, yes, so simple. Why did I not think of it before? Patron, patron, patron.

Brilliant.

Haha, aww, the song “I’ll Be Missing You” just came on the street stereo the delivery guy always plays around this time of day. Definitely a message from my ancestors. My dad always does that. Communicate through music, I mean. Sometimes I’ll just be sitting somewhere random and a playlist comes on that only he would make and I just know he’s there.

Oh yeah, they’re definitely there right now. It just switched to “Empire State of Mind.” Big New York City energy coming in right now. It’s a whole thing.

Now I am sitting here thinking about my book/Netflix show, lol. I’ve been going through my manuscript I made in January and I just hate it. The first half is such a slog. I just want to delete it all, speed up the timeline, and just have the first 10 pages/minutes be a montage of my dad’s funeral, getting fired from Starbucks, car breaking down, losing the house, getting a giant check in the mail, and buying a one-way ticket to India. That’s it. Fuck South Dakota. This is the terrible Prequel series no one asked for. Everything since India is like… my actual real life as I have always wanted to live it finally began. That’s the real story here!

I think we’ve kind of lost the plot a little bit here. Yes, I have meaning. I have purpose. I am a writer. It’s my dream to become a professional writer. That is why I am here. I got on that plane to have a crazy adventure and write it all down. Take whatever comes at me along the way. I did that. I’ve done it. I am actively doing it, even when it comes at a cost, like my little adventure up to the Mid-Levels.

So now we have to figure out how to steer the career into professional mode. I have no idea how to do that. I have no talent for business whatsoever. I need an agent/editor type to guide me in the right direction. Someone who has that eye for business in the way that I don’t and all of the connections I need but don’t have. Again, a patron type.

Okay, I feel like I’m back to normal now after my date with the Russian. Wow, what was that? Hmm. Wild. I don’t actually have anything else I want to say about him here. I just wanted him to know… I could have easily ripped you apart, but I didn’t. But I could. So just… know that.

Honestly, couldn’t even tell ya what he does for a living. You could be water boarding me old school Soviet style and I’d be like, “I swear to you, I don’t know! It sounded so boring. I checked out halfway through his explanation and started examining the crystal chandelier and hanging gardens at the Four Seasons. I can list off every plant and flower in the terrarium. Couldn’t tell ya what he does for work. Something with Finance, maybe? I thought he said he owned his own business. I honestly have no idea.”

The world will never know. Furthermore, the world does not care. The world cares about the part where two Scorpios went on a date to a bar that looks like an old-timey opium den/brothel and it was the most on-brand thing ever for both of them. Show us those terrible red leather couches from the 80’s! That’s what the world really wants to see!

Netflix execs will be like, “How is this even relevant to the plot?”

It’s not, it’s just an excuse to film at the Mandarin Oriental in Hong Kong. Since when do we need a plot for sex? Spoiler alert: there is no plot. This is just a random, gratuitous sex scene with no purpose or relevance whatsoever. Since when do you have a problem including that in your shows?!

They’ll be like, “You’re right. Let’s make sure we get a top-notch intimacy coordinator on board with this production.”

IDK, I think that might be too “woke” for the Russian. I can just imagine the look of outrage on his face right now…

Ha ha ha!

I think I’m hilarious.

Off now. To do what, we don’t know. We know we’re not going back to the Mid-Levels anytime soon!

The battle of Hong Kong Island neighborhoods continues. So far I’ve eliminated Causeway Bay (too busy), Wan Chai (too wild), Central (too expensive), Happy Valley (too far), and the Mid-Levels (too bougie). I’m actually quite happy in Sheung Wan. It’s very… French. Close to everything, but easy to escape from the chaos of the city with a quick trip up to my rooftop.

I think I’ll go do that right now, actually. Then I have to clean my apartment because it’s a mess. All of my clothes are piled onto “the chair” instead of hanging in my closet, where they should be. Alas, I am not fancy enough to have a “helper” or live in an upscale “serviced apartment.” I am confined to my tiny little coffin box with the rats and the cockroaches, living off snacks and instant noodles from 7-11.

It is what it is.

BLOG: Cuppa Tea?

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Wednesday. It’s 1:30pm and I’m still in bed recovering from the epic emotional meltdown I had yesterday.

This whole Bangkok situation is just… too much for me. I am so tired of misogynistic men and the women who enable them messing with my head. Some days I wish I could just be normal instead of always stepping into massive piles of shit.

Well, good news, fam. You’ve done it. You’ve finally chased me away. I won’t come back there anymore. I can’t take the level of crazy. I thought I could, but I definitely can’t. I’ve officially hit my limit.

You win.

I really struggled to fall asleep last night. I went into a full spiral and just could not calm myself down. Some days are good for me, but overall I feel like this entire year has just been a giant disaster. I really thought my life was going to change for the better when I moved abroad. I would just have a job and work and save money and go on trips. Instead it’s just been one disaster after another. It doesn’t feel very good for my self-esteem. I feel more useless and without any real, significant purpose than ever.

I finally got to sleep at dawn. I had a nightmare I was back in South Dakota with my mother and little sister. It was very unpleasant. I really miss my nightly dose of cannabis before bed. It stops the nightmares from coming.

I woke up early and couldn’t will myself to get out of bed for several hours. I finally managed to get up long enough to have a cigarette. Take a shower, brush my teeth, put on a face mask, and make myself a cup of tea. Pretty impressive for someone who is clearly in the middle of a mental health crisis. You can tell I’ve been practicing this for years.

I do not usually drink tea early in the day. I always have coffee. Tea is for when I’m stressed out or sleep-deprived or sick. It’s more of a medicinal thing for me. I decided to make one because the character of Mr. Antony/the Hot Beef Stew has been floating around all morning. He said it would make me feel better. He was right.

I used to freak out whenever I “made” a new character because I didn’t understand the process. Then I went to all those writing workshops during the pandemic and finally understood after listening to other writers talk about their experiences. It’s actually a good thing if the character you made is randomly talking to you, especially if the character is suggesting you make yourself a cup of tea to calm your nerves.

He’s trying to figure out what it means for him to be the “Muse.” He keeps asking me questions about it. I just took the line from House of Guinness and said. “It’s a job, with perks, like a seaside cottage in Ireland.”

He said, “You don’t need a Muse. You need a life coach, a manager, and a maid.” Lol! That is sooooo true.

I like this one way more than Andrew already. Maybe it’s just Andrew wearing a mask and pretending to be someone else again. I don’t think so. I think I finally cut the cord with that one when I was in Bali. I had no choice but to break that connection. It was really hurting me at the end. It was never good or healthy for me. I understand that now. But I could only really understand when I told the Hot Beef Stew about him. I keep going back to that moment and thinking to myself, “Something really changed for me there.”

Unfortunately, I’m not sure I’m loving the circumstances surrounding the creation of this new character. Not sure we really changed much at all. My attitude towards this one is much different, I will say that. I used to say that I “loved” my Andrew. Mr. Antony straight up said to me, “That’s not love.” So I do not think of his character as someone I “love.” It’s just comforting to imagine him in a wool sweater making me a cup of tea and wiping away the tears. I guess that’s all I need right now. I can’t have it in real life, so I had to make up an imaginary friend to do it instead. It is what it is.

He keeps singing “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy” by Rod Stewart. So random! I haven’t heard that song in FOREVER. He says it’s his favourite workout song. Hahaha, what? Shut up! This character is too much fun.

That’s the weird part of making up characters. Sometimes they do things like that. Like say they like a certain song that I don’t listen to. I know this might be hard to believe, but Rod Stewart is not a regular feature on my Spotify playlists, lol. It literally just came up out of nowhere. Random AF.

I actually just looked up the lyrics and was like, “Oh. That’s just a summary of what happened the night we met. Except it was my high-rise apartment. Hahahaha! That’s funny.”

Hahahaha.

Andrew used to do that all the time with music. I had a playlist for him once too.

As I said, it’s a process. I understand the creative process now, but it can still be weird. It’s not like drawing a picture or painting a mural. You’re like… inventing a human being. It’s bizarre. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get over the weirdness.

My neighborhood is much quieter today. No endless jackhammering to run me out. I know I should get up and go somewhere. Get some fresh air. Drop off my laundry. Run my errands. Take a nice, long walk up and down the Mid-Levels. Go to a yoga class. I am trying to force myself, but all I can manage to do is stay in bed wrapped up in my blanket.

At least I have the company of this character to cheer up a bit. I was so upset I missed the film screening last night. I found the series online, but that’s not really the point. The point was to go there and meet people and network. I failed at that. But I also have to be realistic and admit to myself that I was just not in any condition to be socializing yesterday after writing that story. I don’t think people really understand how much writing stuff like that messes with my mind.

Mr. Antony says, “Don’t feel too bad about your story. Everyone has wanted to punch Hermes in the face at one point or another. He’s a little shit like that. I wasn’t very happy to hear about what he did either. What gave him the right to interfere? Why would he tell you a fake story about me to mess with your head? That’s just wrong.”

That’s what I’m saying, bro! Now I understand why you said that bar is full of riff-raff. It really is!

I am trying to imagine the look on Mr. Antony’s face when he heard this story. He was sooooo serious. I feel like he was probably pretty mad when he heard that. I would be. I’d be crazy pissed off, in fact. Like, “Oh, this situation could have gone away completely, but instead this little fucker decided to intercede and blow everything up. They should Extradite him back to Northern Ireland just for that. That was a really fucked up thing to do to mess with a total stranger like that, especially a woman. Straight to jail!”

Well, I guess that will teach me a lesson about writing about my real life on the internet where anyone off the street can read. Ugh. Did I learn my lesson? Well, I’m still doing it, so probably not. I definitely need a different outlet than this.

As an amusing side-note, I did go back and re-read the novella I wrote the first month I was in Bangkok. I wrote it before I ever set foot in that ridiculous bar or met any of these ridiculous people. It’s called “My Emirati Prince.” It was inspired by some random I met in Dubai. It’s… very, very, very spicy, lol. Just pure, unfiltered smut. I forgot how hot it is. I was like, “Jaysus, no wonder I was running around Bangkok like a cat in heat after writing that story. It’s… a lot. And I had not had sex in over a year and a half at that point. Prior to that, I hadn’t had it in like 5 years, and prior to that, it had been like a decade. So… there you have it!”

Well, maybe someday I’ll finally meet a man who isn’t afraid to fuck me every day. Until then… I’m going to make some spicy noodles and get some more rest. At least I’m feeling a little bit better now than I was when I first woke up.

Hmmm… maybe there is something to this whole “cuppa tea” thing after all. Who knew? You know us Americans. We don’t drink tea, we threw that shit in the harbor in protest of tyrannical governments. Well… maybe not so much anymore.

Ugh.

STORY: Betsey in Faerie Land

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Once upon a time, there was a single woman in her mid 30’s who decided to leave her shitty life behind and finally live her lifelong dream of working and living abroad.

First, she went to the Paris Writing Workshop. There she realized her vision of writing in a cramped studio apartment with a view of the rooftops and the Eiffel Tower. Then one day she woke up and realized… her stories were lame as fuck and she needed to travel the world to get some new material.

Next, she went to Mardi Gras in New Orleans. She came home sick with a mysterious illness. Three weeks after that, the entire world shut down for the Covid-19 pandemic. Shit got fucked.

Fast forward a few years into the future. This woman’s father has died, she has a bit of money saved, and she’s sick of living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, South Dakota.

She started doing yoga and went on a magical journey to India to get her yoga teaching certificate. There she met a very handsome young man who asked for her hand in marriage. She told him they had to wait at least a year so they could get to know each other. During this time, they made a lot of plans about a very specific vision of the future together.

This motivated her to look for a job on the other side of the world. Somehow, she ended up getting a job in Hong Kong. She got together the paperwork she needed, packed the wedding dress her late aunt had gifted her, and got on a plane to meet her future husband in Dubai. By this time, a year had passed.

They met up in Dubai and it suddenly became very apparent that the difference in age, life experience, and culture was very difficult to overcome. He left her alone in a foreign country after she had just left everything behind so he could go party at a nightclub. She could never trust him again after that. That part of the story is over now. The End.

Fast forward to Hong Kong. The impossible demands of the high-speed, fast-paced work culture are too much for our heroine. She quits her job and buys a ticket to Bangkok, Thailand on a total and complete whim. She plans to stay for a week, ends up staying for two months, leaves to go to another yoga teacher training course in Bali, then stops in Malaysia, then randomly comes back to Bangkok.

Our heroine returns to Bangkok, where she begins frequenting a farang bar full of English-speaking expats from all over the world. True to the tradition of Thailand, her life becomes an episode of “Farangs Gone Wild.” She’s getting wasted, she’s doing drugs, she’s seeing the Loch Ness Monster in her kratom tea, she’s picking up random men at the bar. You know you love to watch that kind of shit on TV. It’s a whole reality tv-style mess.

One magical night, she goes to the bar and gets way too fucked up. She takes home the wrong guy and now all of a sudden all the raw footage of her living her crazy new life in Thailand is on blast for the whole world to see. Now they are all watching her more closely than ever. What does she do?

One night, she goes to the wrong party and ends up out walking the streets late at night alone. There she has a vision. A helpful doggo friend appears to guide her out from the darkness of the underworld and back to the bright lights of the BTS station.

In the vision, she is wandering through a dark forest hunting for the stags with the biggest antlers to take home as trophies. She is bragging too much about her trophies and the faeries do not like her hubris. The faeries see her for the Black Widow spider she secretly is and decide to put a stop to this mess once and for all.

One night when she is out hunting, one of the faeries appears to her in the form of a particularly handsome Irish stag. The stag befriends her and discovers she is the way she is because she has a very deep soul wound in her heart. He draws the poison from the wound and promptly disappears off into the darkness of the night, never to be seen or heard from again.

When our heroine wakes up again, she finds herself surrounded by a gang of faeries. All of them are watching her with a mixture of anger, bewilderment, and fear. She realizes she is at their mercy now and accepts her fate as their prisoner.

“You are not allowed to go stag hunting in this forest anymore,” the leader of the faeries says.

“Okay,” she says, “That’s fine. I just have one question.”

“You may ask.”

“Where can I find more handsome Irish stags?”

The faeries all laugh and lead her to a clearing in the forest. She looks down and sees a bunch of handsome beef steaks running around on a field playing some sport called rugby. They do not have this sport in her homeland. She is immediately transfixed by the manner in which the tiny shorts cling to butts of all the super hot men.

The faeries all snicker to each other as they watch her eyes sparkle at the sight of the rugby game. They bring her a blanket and a basket of potatoes and invite her to sit down at the game. She spends the rest of eternity peeling a never-ending pile of potatoes as she watches the game.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The End.