BLOG: The Judgmental Fox

Posted on September 8, 2026September 8, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Bangkok, Bloody Mary's, Central, dad, Hong Kong, Judgmental Fox, Lebanon, Mid-Levels, Neighbor Guy, Secret Society, South Dakota, the Island of Lost GuysLeave a comment

Wednesday.

Currently in my apartment having a coffee. It’s been a strange week so far. Things are getting better for me in general, but I’m still not where I want to be in life. I choose to be patient with myself and give myself the space and time I need to grow. I’m only 15 months into my new life. It’s okay to be at peace with where I am now.

Monday was weird. I went up to the Secret Society, which I am rapidly figuring out is not a “Bloody Mary’s-Bangkok” type of situation. The bartenders and other members are really forcing me out of my habit of sitting alone in the corner writing about people instead of talking to them. It is a social club, after all. I joined so I could be social, even if I feel awkward and totally out of my comfort zone. It’s not that bad, really.

I find quite a bit of value in being around non-creative people. They are the consumers of creative content, after all. I was invited to sit at a table with some people, so I asked them what they like to watch in terms of movies and TV. I grabbed a napkin and wrote down all the titles so I could study the screenplays. The list is pretty solid, actually. I was quite impressed. They have good taste, even if they may not think so.

Unfortunately for me, one of the people sitting at this table was Mr. Bathroom. I am still not a fan. He, however, is clearly obsessed with me now. I treat it like an opportunity to set boundaries and say No.

On this evening, I was explaining how artistic patronage works and how I’ve used it in the past to accomplish various creative tasks, such as writing a book. I could see the wheels turning inside Mr. Bathroom’s head as I explained, which is never good.

He looked at me and said, “Okay, let’s role play this scenario. Let’s say I’m the rich guy…”

I already knew where he was going with this. I’m sure you can guess too.

“I get you your own apartment with a studio space for your writing and art. I pay for everything, I visit you whenever I want, and if you don’t produce anything, I take it all away.”

His friend looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “That sounds like a Mistress,” she said. She turned her head back to look at me. “You know what he’s really saying right? He expects sex in return.”

O RLY?! You don’t fucking say!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Right,” I said. “So the only problem with your ‘roleplay scenario’ is that I’m not interested in you, like at all. Also, you have a long-term partner you live with, whose children you take care of. I think you should focus on your family instead.”

He just looked at me with that little sparkle in his eyes and said, “Okay, your loss.”

Hmm… somehow I highly doubt that!

He got up and left. The woman then said, “This is why I’m independent. I make my own money. I control my own fate. I never have to rely on men in that way. Neither should you.”

Noted! I agree COMPLETELY!

Seriously, though. How does this guy keep getting worse? ¿Como se dice “scumbag” en español?

Anyway, thank you for giving me yet another push I need in life! I really need the motivation right now. I need to get cracking on the whole job/visa paperwork thing. I took my little vacation from reality and used my time to work on my book. Now it’s time to get serious again.

Also, thank you for reminding me why I still continue to come back here in spite of the fact that I don’t necessarily like every person I meet. I don’t have to like them. I just have to be in the same room with them. It is what it is.

Yeah, I’m definitely learning a lot. I appreciate the fact that they are welcoming of me in their space. In South Dakota I was treated like the town punching bag and in Bangkok I was treated with suspicion. Very difficult to network and make proper connections of any kind. This is a very important life skill to have. I feel like I am learning how to do it when I go up there, for better or for worse.

Luckily, right at that moment, another lady walked into the bar and approached the table. The three of them all knew each other, but I had never met her before. She said hello and politely introduced herself, then essentially cut me out of the conversation. I was relieved to be ignored for a moment, so I took the opportunity to go outside for a cigarette break.

I got into a conversation with the guys standing outside about James Bond. They had a completely inaccurate reading of the Daniel Craig films, but I didn’t try to argue with them. I just listened. Sure, I was sitting there thinking, “Wrong. Wrong. You’re so wrong!” but it doesn’t matter. The point is to take a step back and listen.

One of them lives in the same neighborhood as me, so after the bar closed, we walked down the hill together. We went to the corner bar on Peel Street and chatted for a very long time. So long that we closed down that bar as well. Then we just sat on Peel Street chatting for awhile. He walked me home. I realized when I came in that it was FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING! What!!!! Disaster!

This one was pushing me to look for marketing jobs. He says his company in particular isn’t into AI and believes in human creativity and storytelling. He was going on and on about the importance of storytelling and how having creative minds of the team is extremely valuable to people like himself who don’t think that way. He was encouraging me to get back on the job hunt and go for this industry. He said, “I know we are drinking, but I can tell from our brief conversation that you have a significant mountain of talent and skill you are not using right now. You should be using it, especially in this day and age. We need people like you now more than ever.”

I thought to myself, “He is right. Thank you again, Secret Society, for pushing me to better than I am. I came to climb the ladder, they see it for what it is, and now they are pulling me up with them. This is great! Much better than that bucket of crabs back in South Dakota. All they did was drag me down into that miserable blackhole with them.”

I made a note of this and went to bed. When I woke up again a few hours later, I felt an extremely strong urge to make peace with my dad. I talked to him a little bit then decided to go out for a walk “with” him. I went to get my glasses fixed, stopped at the bookstore, then picked up some Lebanese food for lunch. He lived in Lebanon for a year, so I always feel closer to him in spirit when I go out for Lebanese. It was a good day. It was peaceful.

My trip to the bookstore was fun. I visualized my book on display at the front of the shop, picked up a new notebook to write said book in, and went to look for coloring books. They only had the kid kind, not the therapeutic adult kind, but it doesn’t really matter. A coloring book is a coloring book. The first one they pulled out for me was a Dr. Seuss coloring book. I just looked at it and teared up and whispered softly, “Daddy?” He used to always read Dr. Seuss to me when I was little. I just got so overwhelmed in that moment. I mean, I’m sitting here in tears just writing about it. Imagine trying not to break down in tears in the middle of a store in Central during lunch hour. Yeah. It was A LOT.

Someone I pulled it together long enough to pay for the books and get out. I picked up my food and went home to cry into my chicken shawarma, lol. I did some yoga, went to the shrine to make an offering, and then decided to stay in for the night and watch TV.

I got antsy after awhile and decided to head over to the Cantina around 10pm. My friends were working and I knew it would be empty. I was hoping to finish my new Island of Lost Guys script, but I realized I’m nowhere near completing it. Mostly, I just felt relief that whatever weird fixation I briefly developed with my neighbor got poured out onto the page and is no longer negatively affecting me.

I don’t really care about him anymore. He’s disappeared from my life now. I’m just keeping the sweatpants as a souvenir. I’m also keeping the weird little stuffed animal he gave me way back in the Spring after one of our first conversations. He called it “The Judgmental Fox.” It’s a little white fox with crazy eyes. I set it high up on the shelf so it can look down at me and judge me in that very English way. He said it’s supposed to be a reminder to hold myself to a higher standard and take myself more seriously because I’m always being watched and judged.

At first, I was like, “Uhhhh…. Okay?” but now I understand what he was saying. I just had to spend more time in the Mid-Levels, I guess. I finally get it. I am definitely being watched and judged at all times. Luckily for me, it seems like the judgment is skewing towards “Extremely Skilled, Talented, and Valuable, but Without Direction, Purpose, and Opportunity.”

I would definitely call that an improvement over my South Dakota days when the judgment skewed towards “CrAzY bItCh!” Yeah, of course I look crazy to a bunch of negative, ignorant people who will never leave their sad little town. That doesn’t mean I have to define myself that way. I was just trapped out there for so long I completely forgot who I was and how to make proper use of my skills and talents.

Now I’m in a better place. I just have to pull myself up again. It is what it is.

I can do this. I know it. I made it this far. I’m not giving up. Thjs is my life now. I am here by choice. I have the opportunity to do anything I want. I just have to give myself a real chance and go for it.

Thank you, Mr. Judgmental Fox. I appreciate you now that I see what you did there. I’m sending you back that same energy now. I wish you well on your spiritual journey, wherever it may take you in life.

Thank you.

BLOG: Wan Chai’d

Posted on August 16, 2026August 17, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Central, Finance Bros, Hong Kong, Mid-Levels, Neighbor Guy, SEA, Secret Society, sex work, SoHo Queen, Wan ChaiLeave a comment

Monday morning.

How do I explain yesterday so I myself can understand the progression of events?

Ridiculous.

Okay, so I started by going up to the Secret Society around 5pm. It was the most dead I’ve ever seen it. They told me I was customer #4. They opened at noon. Just in case you’ve never worked in a bar before, that’s bad.

So I sat and I waited for something interesting to happen. No one showed up to improve the afternoon. We speculated that they were probably all at a yacht party or on Lamma Island.

Not gonna lie: I was jealous of this thought. I want to go to a yacht party! And not just some random junk boat party full of 22-year-old college interns who found this event via Facebook. I want the full “Season Experience.” If I’m getting on a boat to drink for 7 or 8 hours in the sun, it’s going to be with a bunch of rich people in the middle of their own little soap opera. I don’t want to be a character in the soap opera. I just want to watch other people living in their own little soap opera and write it down later to entertain myself and others.

Television has ruined me, I know. It is what it is.

Anyway, none of that was happening. It was boring AF. I went outside for a cigarette and wished to the universe that something interesting would happen. All I can say right now is “Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.”

This is around the time my “Auntie,” aka a lady locally known as “The SoHo Queen” messaged me out of the blue. She is called this because everyone in F&B on this Island somehow magically knows this lady. No one seems to know what it is she actually does. As far as I can tell, she is called into manage various establishments when the owners are away. My friend and I like to joke about her being a gangster. At least… we were joking about it… until last night.

I met up with her at the Cantina, then followed her down to Peel Street to check in on one of her spots. There was only one person working there at the time. She was a very young Filipina girl. She looked at my Auntie with an expression I can only describe as “fear and terror.” I noticed over the course of the evening that this is generally how everyone looks at this lady. Like they know she’s a messy drunk, but they’re also absolutely fucking terrified of what she’s going to do to them if they step out of line. This is one of the many reasons why we think she’s a gangster.

So we are chillin there for awhile. Then she gets a call on her phone. She walked away for awhile to take the call, then came back and said, “I need to go to Wan Chai. Do you want to come with me? I can show you a really good story.”

I hesitated at first because it’s Wan Chai. In case you are unfamiliar with HK, Wan Chai is the neighborhood where creepy old men go to prey on very young women. Are there some good restaurants there? Definitely. Is it nice during the daytime? Sure. But once the sun goes down… it gets gross and creepy FAST.

This is one of the reasons why I prefer to stay in my “Central Bubble.” In Central, one is far more likely to meet a mix of people from all over the world gathering on a more equitable level. In Wan Chai… well… let’s just say it’s like the Thailand of Hong Kong. It’s pretty much exclusively old white men and uncomfortably young-looking girls and women from SEA.

Knowing this, I still agreed to go over there with this lady. I was like, “Sure, I’m always down for a story!”

So we get in a taxi and go over to Wan Chai. While we were in said cab, I suddenly realized I was traveling far away from home in a semi-compromised state to walk straight into a sketchy situation. I know better than to do this at this point. Yet I still did it. No idea why. For the story, I guess.

So we go there, we walk into this very famous, very well-known bar that people have recommended to me several times, and whaddyaknow? It’s a bunch of creepy old men and a bunch of uncomfortably young-looking girls. I am saying “girls” instead of “women” because “girl” literally means “an underaged, minor child.”

This is nothing I haven’t seen before while traveling through Asia. However, it does bother me a lot, mostly because these women are not “making an empowered, feminist choice.” They’re sold into sex slavery from the time they are small children and forced to provide money for their families. There is nothing empowering or glamorous about it. They literally have no other options. The men know this. They don’t care. They just want to get their dicks sucked. It’s just… sickening to watch.

As I said, we might as well have been in Thailand at this point. It is what it is. Once again, everyone in this establishment was looking at my Auntie with fear in their eyes. She left me at the bar, went in the back to do her business, then came back and sat down with me. Everyone on the staff was STARING at me. It was weird.

This was around the time I realized… ohhhh… this isn’t a joke anymore. This is real. This lady actually is a real-life gangster, and she has just brought to into a bar where women are being sold to the highest bidder, and now all these creeps are looking at me. Is she going to sell me too?

This would not be the first time someone has tried to sell me off to an old rich man in Asia. It’s happened at least three times so far (that I know of). Usually I think it’s funny, but this situation was about as far from “funny” as you can get. There was nothing funny to me about being in that bar at that time of night with the clientele that was there. Truth be told, I was legitimately terrified.

At some point, I became uncomfortable enough that I decided to leave. I hailed a taxi, which dropped me off like five blocks from my apartment (typical HK taxi driver shit), and vowed never to return to Wan Chai at night ever again.

Then I walked up to my apartment and tried to be as quiet as possible so as to not wake my neighbor, whose obnoxiously strong scent was still permeating the hallway. It hit me like a ton of bricks when I walked in. It’s kinda like a dog marking its territory, you know?

Anyway, as I said yesterday, normally it drives me up the wall, but when I finally got back last night, I was just grateful to be Safe and Home. I thought to myself, “I’d rather deal with this annoying overgrown manbaby and his weird smells and his moody, Diva-like behavior than ever go back to a place like that again.”

It is what it is.

We’ve definitely hit a turning point in this narrative…

After having been directly exposed to the reality of my two worst fears in life (homelessness and forced prostitution), I have officially decided it’s time to stop fucking around and get my shit together. So, that is what I will do. Just as soon as I cure this hangover, that it is. But after that… it’s hustle time. We gotta get dat visa paperwork, fam.

This is it. This is your Home now, Bets. There is no going back to whatever your life was before. The only way is to keep moving forward… and so we must move forward… and just do whatever it is we have to do…

The End.

BLOG: One Week’s Worth of Posts

Posted on July 30, 2026July 31, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged American Bar, Bangkok, Bloody Mary's, Central, Finance Bros, Hong Kong, India, Kowloon, Mid-Levels, Neighbor Guy, Secret Society, South Dakota, Thailand, The Sketchy Place, The Wolf, yogaLeave a comment

Wednesday. Here I am, at the Secret Society. I can’t stay away in spite of all evidence that I should. It is what it is. You know me.

I finally got a new pair of glasses, so I can finally stare at a screen for pro-longed periods of time again without hurting my eyes. It’s been, like, what? A whole week since I’ve written anything? No wonder I’m starting to lose my shit.

Now… where did I leave off?

Ah yes, I was right here, at the Secret Society. I had just been forced to put away my iPad because of an oncoming shark attack. Luckily, none of the sharks are here right now. It’s too early for them, I think. Hopefully I’ll be able to finish this post and make it out of here before they show up and start swarming me again. I assume they’re all down at The Wolf right now, which is everywhere I don’t want to be.

Okay, let’s go by the day… starting right where we left off…

THURSDAY

So I rolled up here and nothing interesting happened for awhile. All those old bankers were up here celebrating a birthday. I chose not to get involved. Not trying to get friendly with a bunch of old married men, as previously stated. Especially this crowd. I ignored them, they ignored me, everything was grand.

Then my Irish friend (he needs a name that isn’t Seamus lol) from Dublin showed up. You know, the married one who confessed his “love” for me, yet refuses to divorce his wife even though it’s clearly not working out between them. Yeah, that guy. Winner winner chicken dinner.

So we started chatting, but he was annoying me, as per usual. Luckily, right at that moment, that crazy old British Banker who roped me in here the first time around showed up to interrupt the conversation. He walked past us to go to the bathroom and gave me a sideways glance. I turned to my Irish friend and said, “Watch this.”

The British Banker (also needs a name) came back and immediately walked up to greet me. I asked him how his plot to overthrow the British Monarchy and install Trump as King is going.

“Now’s your chance,” I said. “The monarchy is old, weak, and unpopular. The Prime Minister is a cat. Brexit has ruined everything. It’s all very Shakespearean. I think you’re really set up for success here if you give it the good ol’ college try.”

The Irish guy snickered to himself as he watched this exchange. Meanwhile, the British Banker gave me a defeated look and sighed deeply.

“Oh no, no no,” he said. “Trump is an idiot. I simply can’t stand him anymore. He’s a clown running a big tent circus show.”

Oh, really? You don’t say. I’m amazed you finally figured it out. It’s like… Wow, that only took, what, like, four months? Hmm. Wonder what changed. Aside from… well… everything…

Anyway, so happy to report the plot to install Trump as King of the Commonwealth is no more. I guess they’ll be passing it on down to Wills & Kate after all. As they say, the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t.

“Say,” he asked. “How old are you anyway?”

“I’m 37, turning 38 this year. I’m getting close to cougar status. You better watch out or I’ll sneak up on ya!”

“You can’t sneak up on me.”

My Irish friend and I gave each other a sideways glance and I started laughing again.

“Oh, I think I already did.”

Needless to say, he found this very amusing and decided we are friends now. Sure we are. Why not? Everyone knows my favourite people to make friends with in this world are rich old white men. And here I don’t even get anything out of it except a bunch of random, ridiculous stories. Love that for me.

As this conversation came to a close, so did the bar. I packed up my things and headed on down the hill. I stopped by the Cantina on the way down, where one of my friends was working. We will call her Kitty (she chose this name herself). I stopped in for a drink while they were closing down the bar. That was when the ghost showed up.

As it turns out, my much beloved Cantina is haunted AF, which explains the slightly-off vibes there. The ghost was very much present on this evening, as evidenced by the flickering lights, weird vibes, and ever-present creepy feeling of being watched by a nonhuman entity. Kitty was terrified, so I walked her home since we lived in the same direction.

So ends Thursday.

—

FRIDAY

Friday was busy for me. I went to a shop nearby to pick up a pair of new glasses since I lost my other pair. Got an eye exam, which I haven’t had done in literally 20 years because the American healthcare system is wildly overpriced hot garbage.

Turns out I needed a prescription after all. Picked out a lovely set of frames, added in the blue light protection, and paid about $125 USD for the entire package. Mindfuck. In the US, the frames alone would cost $300-$500. Such a fucking rip-off.

After that, I decided to go visit the witches under the bridge in Causeway Bay for some good old-fashioned villain hitting. It’s a ritual where you write down someone’s name and put a curse on them. For me, I wrote down the name of someone who I felt put a curse on me roughly ten years ago. I didn’t want to curse him. I just wanted to cut the cord between us once and for all.

I won’t say who it was. I will just say it was someone from Verm who has caused me a lot of pain and anguish over the course of a decade. Personally, I feel like it’s very obvious. If it’s not… you clearly haven’t been keeping up. I think we all know who the main character in Bloody Mary’s was, and it’s definitely not me.

Anyway, I just wanted my energetic field to be free of his essence once and for all.

Prior to going to the bridge, I performed a protection ritual on myself. I meditated, set my intention carefully, and dressed in all white. I don’t mess with black magic/bad medicine/bad juju/whatever you want to call it. I fully believe putting a curse on someone will come back at you ten fold. That’s why I was careful to set my intention to cleanse myself, not to curse someone else.

I walked around the coven and looked for the perfect witch to cast the spell. For this, I decided to go with my gut. I think I chose right because the results were apparent right away. I left feeling lighter, happier, freer. It was the best $50 HKD I’ve ever spent.

I returned home to find my neighbor acting weird, as per usual. No idea what’s up with him, honestly. I keep trying to dig and he won’t tell me shit. You know these English guys. They’ve always got something hidden in their attics.

I straight up said to him, “Okay, if you refuse to tell me, my mind will fill in the blank for you. I will just assume you have a haunted portrait or a mentally ill ex-wife locked up in an attic somewhere.”

He didn’t say anything to that. Mmm, yeah… that’s what I thought, Mr. Rochester. It is what it is. I’m done digging. I’ll let that one come to me. I’m over this whole “In the Mood for Love” dynamic. I don’t need this shit. I can go out any night of the week and take my pick from the crowd. Fuck that.

This she says as the bartender she made out with last week stands directly in front of her. Haha.

This leads me into Friday Night, aka Girls Night Out. It was my friend’s birthday. I haven’t given her a fake name yet even though she’s the first friend I made when I came back to HK. I haven’t been doing well with this. Let’s call her… Anastasia! Haha, inside joke. She also chose this name for herself.

I met up with Anastasia at a random spot along the escalator. One of her regulars was there so he bought us some dranks. We hung out with him for awhile, then walked down to the Cantina to pick up Kitty. She didn’t want to close alone because of the ghost, so we sat and waited for her while she finished up.

As we were waiting, the bartender I made out with last week appeared. They both knew him already because they’re all Filipina/o. My friends immediately picked up on the weird vibe and looked at me like, “What was that?”

I made the mistake of telling them what happened. Y’all, they were SCANDALIZED! They wouldn’t stop giving me shit about it for the rest of the night. They started calling him “The Pirate” because I told them to stop screaming his real name so loud half of Central can hear. Like, girl, do you know who I am? No real names, please! So now the joke is just “Oooooooh Pirate!!!!” Like, yeah, he really do be out here looking like a pirate though. It is what it is.

After that, we went down to the Nepalese shisha bar for a drink and a smoke. We were there until about 3am. Kitty took off home, while Anastasia and I went to a late-night Indian restaurant I had no idea existed. It was amazing. Loved it.

Finally got home some time around 4am. My neighbor, whose name is now Mr. Rochester until he makes a decent argument in favour of something better, was definitely awake when I came home. I know because I heard him get up and go out onto the rooftop. He does this pretty regularly.

Unfortunately for him, I was in a different dimension thanks to the combination of the witch’s spell, the dranks, the shisha, the Indian food, and the two hits of a vape pen I took from some random finance bro at the bar. There would be no weird rooftop meeting on this night.

—

OMG, this is getting to be such a chore. Now you know why I have to write every single day. Trying to go a week at a time is just too much for me. No wonder I’ve been feeling so crazy.

Definitely had to take a break from writing for a minute. Also, the usual Krewe of Sharks showed up and wanted to talk to me. My not-so-secret identity has officially been revealed. I’ll get to that later…

Anyway, continuing on…

—

SATURDAY

Saturday morning I woke up as if it was any other ordinary day and checked my IG. The first person on my “People You May Know” was one of the mean girls from the yoga shala in India. Apparently she made herself a professional yoga teacher account and decided to use it to creep on me.

I clicked on it and discovered she is now marketing herself as a “trauma-informed yoga teacher.”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Bitch, PLEASE! Get the fuck OUT! You are not a fucking “trauma-informed yoga teacher.” You’re a mean girl with an Instagram account. Shut the fuck UP!

“BREAKING NEWS: The worst person you met at your YTTC is now a trauma-informed yoga teacher!”

LOL! LMFAO!

That’s the funniest fucking shit I’ve ever seen. Wow. Just… wow. Daily Inspiration for you: you really CAN be anything you want to be. All you need is an Instagram account and some basic-ass marketing skills.

God, that totally made my day. That’s fucking hilarious. I literally cannot even. I mean… good luck with that, girl. I mean that sincerely. Personally, I would never take your class after the shitty fucking way you treated me while I was ACTUALLY trying to sort out my trauma. Yikes!

Fucking delusional.

Anyway…

So that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Pure delusion right there. Truly fascinating from a psychological perspective. Like… really? I can’t.

Okay, moving on.

I got up and dressed and walked over to SYP to meet up with an old friend I met in Paris back in 2011. We met at one of Jim Haynes’ dinner parties. He’s this famous American who used to throw weekly dinner parties for strangers in Paris. It’s a whole thing. You can go look him up.

We met up for coffee and lunch and caught up on the last 15 years. He’s writing a book. He asked me a lot of questions about my writing. He also wanted to know why I never moved to Paris. I explained my crazy family situation to him. He said, “Yeah, you know, that never quite sat right with me. I remember when I met you that you had a very specific plan for your life. Then I kept checking in on you and you were still out in South Dakota. I just kept asking myself… what happened?”

Well, now you know! And now I live in Hong Kong instead, so it all worked out in the end!

So that was fun. We went our separate ways again. I returned home to prepare for the oncoming typhoon. Stocked up on snacks and drinks. Made sure the windows were sealed shut. Snuggled up in bed to watch TV all night. Fun times.

—

SUNDAY

This whole day was occupied by the typhoon. I couldn’t go anywhere, nor did I want to. Sorry but I’m not brave enough to go out wandering around in extreme weather just for the sake of the gram. It is what it is.

—

MONDAY

The most exciting part of this day is when I discovered an American grocery store in my neighborhood that sells Costco-sizes of American products. I got a giant bottle of Frank’s Red Hot Buffalo Sauce and a giant container of Creole seasoning. Yasssss. So happy! It’s the little things in life, truly.

—

TUESDAY

I did nothing.

—

WEDNESDAY

Finally, something interesting happened! I went up to the Secret Society, as previously mentioned. There was no one there when I first arrived, which gave me enough time to write out the events of my life up to Saturday. That’s when the sharks showed up.

I was busy typing away when I heard someone announce in a loud British accent, “There she is! She’s writing! She’s writing!” It was the Banker dude. OMG, he really needs a name. Now they all need names, because they found me out!

So when I’ve been up there, I’ve been going by the name Liz. I just didn’t want to be known, I didn’t want to be found, and I definitely did not want any of them to find out I’ve been watching them this entire time.

Unfortunately, they caught onto me. How? Well, I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that it’s because I’m a young woman in a room full of old men, sitting at a keyboard clacking away. In my mind, I think I’m invisible. In their minds… not so much!

And so they finally unmasked my not-so-secret identity as Betsey Horton, Writer Extraordinaire. I think they were all slightly disappointed to discover that I’m a writer, not a spy. I know. I’m disappointed too. It is what it is.

Naturally, they wanted to know more about my writing. At first I was nervous, but then I remembered that I was standing in a room full of highly educated people who live and work in Hong Kong making a fuckton of money. This is not some shitty dive bar in South Dakota full of aggressively illiterate MAGAts, nor is it an expat bar in Bangkok where shady people go to hide from their extensive rap sheets back in the West. It’s a different audience, for sure.

There is a reason why I joined this club, and this is exactly why.

I told them about Bloody Mary’s Bar, which they were highly amused by. I’m not even kidding right now, you guys. These gossipy old queens ATE THAT SHIT UP AND LEFT NO CRUMBS! Caught their interest right away, as I knew it eventually would if I sat on it long enough. Looks like that curse worked, MWA HAHAHAHA!

Then I explained what happened in Bangkok and about how mad everyone at the American Bar was that I wrote about them. The HK-era were like, “Well, of course they were mad. Thailand is where shady people go to hide.” TRUTH!

So then they wanted to know what I’d been writing about them. I said, “Oh, not much. I came here to hide, not to write.” Lies! I did not tell them the story about how I met all of them at The Wolf, nor about their friend and his little stunt in the bathroom. I mean, they were all there for that, but I doubt they remember. I remember, though. That’s not a story I’m likely to forget any time soon.

I was really scared they were going to be mad and throw me out. Instead, they laughed. They thought it was funny! They were like, “Oh, I want to read that. I want to see what fake names you come up with everyone on the Island and try to guess who they are. Haha, that’s so funny. You’re just like Lady Whistledown!”

So now my nickname is Lady Whistledown, which is hilarious, actually. Like, yep, that’s me. I am the modern day American equivalent of Lady Whistledown, and proud of it.

All of them encouraged me to finish the book I’ve been writing about my first year living abroad. I’ve never seen so many people cheering me on. It was wild! They are here for it!

My Banker friend was especially impressed with my discipline as far as writing every day goes. Like, “Oh, you’re for real, aren’t you?”

Yes, yes I am. I know it, you know it, everyone knows it!

And now they know the name Betsey Horton!

I still asked them to call me Liz, though. I just… really, really prefer to separate my writing identity from my every day identity. It’s a whole thing.

After bar close, I wandered on down the hill back home. Along the way, I ran into my Auntie, who I swear to god is secretly a gangster of some sort. We hung out for awhile at the corner bar across from the 7/11 on Peel Street.

That was when Mr. Pirate came along. I brought him back home with me to my rooftop, forgetting about the weirdness with Mr. Rochester. Mistake! Pretty sure Mr. Rochester came out onto the rooftop and saw us out there, because Mr. Pirate kept turning around and looking behind him and asking me if there was someone else there. I was like, “Oh, yeah, that guy. Just ignore him.”

Unfortunately, neither of us could ignore the invisible presence of the third party, so I had to send him on his way home. IDK. Maybe it’s all in my head. Or maybe… it’s not… because Mr. Pirate noticed it too and wouldn’t stop asking me about it. So… I guess I can’t be hosting any more guests at home now. Especially since the first insult Mr. Rochester lobbed at me during our first argument was, “All you do is get drunk and make out with random guys in elevators!”

Yeahhh…. Guess he’s decided to stake his claim to that specific elevator, lol. I mean, I get it. The thought of seeing him with another girl makes me weirdly jealous. I don’t know why. I don’t even like him that much. It’s probably because we are sharing a wall and he’s always around lurking in the shadows, waiting to jump out and scare me. He’s just this ever-present force in my life now that I can’t escape from. I would be so mad. I would be like, “Hey, that’s MY neighbor! Back off bitch!”

It is what it is.

Now I’m here at Ye Olde Irish Pub, the last place where I can hide. Yep, I’m a known quantity in the universe now. That means I gotta come all the way over to Kowloon to hide. And even then… they know me here too! Everyone knows me wherever I go! I’m special! I can’t escape from my fate! It has found me… again.

Alas.

Alright, I’m off to finish my Guinness (LOL) and then head on back over across the bay before the weather gets worse. Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day.

Have a lovely day!

BLOG: I Am Not Invisible

Posted on July 20, 2026July 20, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Black Narcissus, Central, dad, Finance Bros, Hong Kong, India, Mid-Levels, Neighbor Guy, Secret Society, Sha Tin, South Dakota, The Season, The Sketchy Place, The Wolf, yogaLeave a comment

Monday.

I am not in my regular writing routine so I’m just sitting here right now like… where was I?

Ok. I had just finished watching The Season and speculating whether or not my Neighbor would have played the role he auditioned for in a significantly less sleazy manner.

Right.

So what do you think the next choice I made was?

That’s right. I decided to go up to the Secret Society and collect material for my own version of “The Season,” fancy yacht parties not included. Welcome to the Mid-Levels Madness. Here we go.

So, first thing is first. That place is so fucking WEIRD. I cannot describe the vibe up there. I’ve been in there multiple times now as a member, I’ve given it an open mind, and yeah, like… it’s definitely giving “Secret Society” vibes.

The first problem I noticed was that all the regulars clocked me RIGHT AWAY, but no one actually said hello. They all just gathered in the corner and started talking amongst each other. There is nothing unusual about this specific group behavior, but it was definitely giving weird vibes.

I briefly wondered if the married Irishman I just rejected last week was all up in there talking shit. Maybe! Who knows! Not sure why I’m the problem for saying I prefer to have a real relationship with a single man instead of falling for some married guy’s imaginary made up fairytale fantasy… AGAIN. No thanks, bro! That ship has sailed! But sure, do whatever you have to do to ruin my life so you can avoid accountability. I’ve seen it all before.

I decided to ignore it. Maybe they are not talking about me at all.

Eventually, this random lady I had never met before came over and started chatting me up. She was cool enough. I just felt really awkward because she made a comment about my appearance and I had to say, “I’m 37.”

I know that I look young, but rest assured, I’m not some random 23-year-old sugar baby looking for her next daddy. Pretty sick of the whole “predatory older men using me for the own agenda” thing, honestly.

So the whole conversation was awkward, but I managed to hold my own, as per usual. Living in South Dakota may have fucked up my entire life, but I grew up in the DC area to a father who was a very well-known prominent lawyer. I can hold my own in these rooms whether I want to, or not.

So the conversation was happening, and I just kept trying to steer it towards the fact that I am in the market for a job that is not F&B or teaching. I don’t know how well that went, but I made an effort.

Then shit got really weird. All of a sudden, this one old British finance bro turned around and gave me a huge hug out of nowhere. Everyone in the room just stopped and stared at me while I put on a fake smile and tried to pretend I wasn’t insanely uncomfortable in that moment.

“Oh, you know him?” The lady asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not well,” I said. “I’ve only met him here a few times. He’s the one who invited me to join.”

Another raised eyebrow. Yes, lady, I know. I’ve seen him out here creeping on young ladies too. I’m not an idiot. I know what’s going on. I ALSO don’t feel comfortable with him randomly putting his arms around me and showing me off to the whole crowd like a prized racing horse who just won him a trophy at Sha Tin.

So icky! Gross! It was just gross.

Somehow, it got worse. Right at that moment, out of absolutely fucking nowhere, the Finance Bro who invited me to snort coke off a dirty bathroom toilet seat and then proceeded to grope me in front of everyone appeared. And not only did he appear, but he, too, embraced me in front of everyone and made me do that obnoxious “kiss on both cheeks” greeting that, honestly, I totally get is cultural, but also… no.

Literally as he was kissing my cheeks, all I could think about was how close his face had probably been to a dirty bar toilet only moments before. Even as I write this… the expression on my face is like… ew… no… disgust… no.

I truly felt so violated in that moment. Once again, he just could not resist putting his grimy paws all over me and grabbing me in places I did not give him express, specific consent to grab.

Then came the most horrifying part: the fact that I CONTINUED TO PRETEND SMILING AND ACTING LIKE NONE OF THIS FUCKING BOTHERED ME EVEN THOUGH ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS RUN HOME AND SHOWER.

It was terrible. Honestly, so terrible. It really put me off going back up there again. Before, I was like, “Well… you know… it might just be me. Maybe I got too drunk, maybe I misunderstood, maybe there’s more to this place than I think, after all… it IS important to be in these types of rooms… you know, for the connections! Networking! This is just how it is. It’s the same in DC, in SD, in NYC, in HK, everywhere. You have to know which rooms are going to help you get where you need to go. This room could help me get where I need to go.”

But then… No. Girl, no! WTF?! Just… no!

For one brief shining moment, I really sat there and asked myself, “What am I doing right now? Why am I coming into this place where I have repeatedly been made to feel unsafe, just to listen to terrible old rich people spew terrible pro-colonialist Old Empire propaganda? All this, just for a blog post 10 whole people might read? Why? To what end? To get a job working for people like this? Why? So I can go back to the comfort of my suburban upbringing and never have to worry about money ever again? Is it really worth it?”

I don’t think it is…

Even now, just recounting this… the look on my face, the feelings I am feeling, everything, all of it. It’s like watching my whole life flash before my eyes.

Just… why?

I don’t know. I think South Dakota ruined me, tbh. All living there taught me how to do was compromise my boundaries and beliefs so I could feel extremely uncomfortable hanging out in rooms full of shitty fucking assholes, political opinions and socioeconomic status irrelevant.

Like… I don’t even know how to find a person I actually like. I have no idea how to have fun. I just think… “This is just how life is, Betsey. You just have to go out there and be around terrible people you don’t like all the time, and that’s just the way it is. You’re the problem for not liking it, Betsey. You need to learn how to turn off all of your feelings and opinions and just watch it all unfold in front of you live in real time. Then you go home and write about it later. That’s what being a writer is. That’s what it means.”

But like… is it?

Should I not be using this life to do something that makes me happy?

Of course!

But like… how do I do that when I legitimately do not know what makes me happy?

There are some things that make me happy. Sitting in a little street-side cafe on a rainy day, writing the afternoon away. Eating a plate of delicious food with the appropriate wine to pair. Snuggling up in bed and watching TV (mostly with my cat, who is sadly no longer with us). Learning new things. Reading. Drawing, painting, coloring. The feeling of hunting through a discount sale or secondhand shop in search for the perfect dress to wear out to dinner by myself just so I can feel beautiful for a night,

None of these things make money or involve a career. The career question is so hard right now. I literally do not know how to not be completely miserable at a job. I’ve mostly had TERRIBLE work experiences because the SD culture is so fucking hostile towards outsiders of all kinds. I can’t remember the last time I had a job I liked. I really thought teaching would be the change I needed, but it’s not.

My dream job is to not have to work in a place where I have to put on a big fake smile and pretend I’m a Disney character every day. I can’t do it. I can’t keep it together. I do not have that ability. I cannot hide my emotional state at all, ever. It is what it is.

I don’t know what’s right for me. Again, we just know it’s not teaching children or yoga, and it’s definitely not serving other people. But those are the only jobs I’ve ever had… and I don’t have the experience on my resume necessary to just switch without going back to school or finding someone to speak for me as a reference.

I just feel so stuck right now. My mind just goes back to the same place it always does: Fight, Flight, Fawn, or Freeze. Right now all I seem to do in HK is fawn or freeze. Now I’m a place where I either have to fight to stay or take flight. If I take flight, it’s very clear that I only have a certain amount of time/money before I end up back in the US, homeless, without meaning, purpose, or direction, and back in my abusive family home. If I stay here, there’s only a certain amount of time/money before my luck runs out and I end up in the same place.

But what if I flee to a yoga shala in India and hide out in the Himalayas until I go cray-cray a la Black Narcissus and jump off a cliff?

Why does that ending seem so inevitable all the time? Ugh. I fully blame my dad for saying dumb shit to me my whole life like, “You could be just like [insert name of writer who killed themselves here].”

Like, yeah, that shit is so real. I don’t even have kids or a husband or a house in the burbs, but I 100% get why Sylvia Plath stuck her head in an oven. You don’t need to encourage more of that energy to grow within me just to prove to your narcissistic ego that yes, you did, in fact, spawn a “misunderstood genius” who may not be accepted in this life, but maybe famous in the next.

Terrible parenting, tbh. 0/10, would not choose to be born to either of these nutjobs ever again.

Who am I? What am I doing with my life? I don’t know anything anymore.

All I know if that today is the perfect day to judge people based on their “umbrella walks,” so that’s what I’m going to do.

The End!

BLOG: I Need New Friends

Posted on July 7, 2026July 7, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Central, Hong Kong, Ireland, Neighbor Guy, the Island of Lost Guys, The RussianLeave a comment

Wednesday.

It’s been a rough week. Both of the people I invited out for 4th of July bailed on me. So annoying!

I’m kind of over my one friend. We only ever seem to do whatever she wants to do. When it’s something I want to do, she either tries to get me to go somewhere else or she just bails. Then we end up doing exactly what I didn’t want to do, which is go out to a random bar and drink. Then she says all I ever want to do is drink at bars.

Like, actually, no. I wanted to go to brunch somewhere with a nice view of the harbor and a healthy menu. I wanted to go to Aerial Yoga. I wanted to go to a wine tasting. I wanted to go to a midnight painting session at the art studio around the corner. I wanted to go to HK Sevens. I wanted to go to Reggae Fest. I wanted to go to the Latin Carnival. I wanted to go to Quiz Night at the new expat club I joined. I wanted to go to Macau. I wanted to go to a junk boat party. I wanted to go to Lantau Island and go to the beach and ride on the air tram thingy. I wanted to go for real New York-style pizza before the stand-up comedy open mic so we could get into the right headspace.

You did not want to do any of those things. You cancelled on me, then hit me up way late to go get drinks at the bar and talk to random men. Then you complain about how that’s all I ever want to do? What is that? I get that you’ve been here forever and you’ve done all the things, but it’s weird that you complain about me never leaving Central when you’re the one who bails on me every single time I try to leave Central.

She is ten years younger than me, btw. It’s starting to get a little annoying. It is like she is in the beginning stages of the epic journey I went on at her age to find myself, which is great. The problem is that I’ve already been on that journey for ten years. I’m not trying to be someone’s free spiritual advisor. I’m trying to find someone on my level who wants to go out and do interesting shit. Instead, this person is constantly canceling on the fun stuff, then dragging me right back into the same scenery I’ve been trying to escape, all while simultaneously judging me for being there in the first place.

It’s giving big sister-little sister energy. I think sometimes maybe I am doing it because my little sister is out of the picture at the moment. She is dating some old creep and refuses to speak to me because she thinks she knows more about life than I do. I wish she would come to me with questions about this kind of stuff, but she doesn’t. She’s just mean to me, like everyone else in my family is. So yeah, probably subconsciously ended up hanging out with this chick because of that. It’s just like… meh. I really would rather go to a boat party or lay on a beach all day. I don’t get the judging, making alternative plans, bailing on said plans, then judging me again. It’s starting to get weird. It’s been long enough that a pattern has been established, and I just… don’t like the pattern I am seeing. I’m trying to get out of my comfort zone, not stay in it.

The other person who is acting ridiculous is my neighbor. He has gone full diva mode on me. I have no idea what happened. After his meltdown the Saturday night before, he proceeded to have another meltdown at me on the 4th of July. This time it was on Instagram, which he blocked me on shortly thereafter.

What are we fighting over? I have no idea. He’s being super judgy of me and yelling at me about how I need to fix my life. Meanwhile, he barely tells me anything about himself, then he randomly explodes at me via IG messenger about his personal issues that I didn’t know he had, then accuses me of judging him when in reality I was not judging him at all.

He’s the one who is British! They can’t help themselves. They are just naturally judgy and condescending like that. Like, I get it. He looked at me and saw a mess. He literally could not help himself. He had to try to sort out the mess. This is their way. This is what they do. I get it! And me being American, I just accept him for what he is and say, “I support your right to be whoever the fuck you want to be, and if this is it, then by god man, I will let you be this next-level Diva who hides out in his trailer all day long, Mr. Actor Extraordinaire!”

I guess I’m not really sure what happened over there. I actually was listening to him and taking most of his advice. I thought of him as a trustworthy, platonic friend. So yeah, I don’t know why he lost his shit at me and accused me of not listening to him. Maybe he has a new girlfriend or something and needed to make up some bullshit reason to stop talking to me. Yeah, that’s probably it. Otherwise, his behavior makes zero sense whatsoever. There’s probably a girl involved. There’s always another girl involved. Why wouldn’t there be another girl involved? Ha.

I need new friends. Ugh.

Is the social thing going well? No. Is the job thing going well? Also no. But is the writing going well? Actually yes, yes it is. I finally found a plot to go with my Russian! A real plot. A good, juicy thriller plot! A plot which involves shady dealings in Hong Kong and friends who appear to be enemies and enemies who appear to be friends and the international trafficking of illegal things and yassss it’s so good!

He would like it. He gets to be the good guy. I know deep in my heart that’s what he would want. At first he seems like the bad guy because he’s Russian and I’m not woke enough to understand that not all Russians are cartoon villains from Ye Olde Red Scare Era. But as the movie goes on, we find out he’s actually the good guy, and it’s the British guy pretending to be my concerned friend who is actually the bad guy!

And then they have sex in the high-rise! Bow chicka wow wow! Somebody give me an Oscar! I’ve already got my speech prepared! Wait, not really sure which one I’m talking about there. Maybe both? Probably not at the same time though. Not sure the Eiffel Tower needs to make a cameo in this picture. But, you know, we have time. Maybe it still could! Maybe they go to the Paris in Macau and…

Bahahahahahahahahaha!

I’m totally kidding. The joke was there. The opportunity presented itself and I took it. What do you want from me? Sometimes I make jokes just for me!

See? I got it. It just took me some time to get there. I really had to suffer for it first. As is the Russian Way…

Speaking of suffering, I had to suffer through another meeting with this random Irish guy I met a few months ago. He is ridiculous. Dude is married, obviously, which I’m so tired of. He is not happy in this marriage, as is evidenced by the fact that he literally took a job in Hong Kong to escape from it. Now he thinks he is in love with me because I let him dish out his whole Irish Spring Soap Opera of a life story to me while drunk. Sigh.

I had to sit there the other day and explain to him that he is not in love with me. He is avoiding an inevitable confrontation with his wife and using all manner of things to do it. He’s trying to use me as an excuse to kick the can further down the road, and I am not here for it. I am not interested in him, like, at all. The story… sure. Yes. Here for it. Him, himself? No. Not even a little.

I told him again I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to spend time together anymore. I do not return these imaginary feelings he has invented because he doesn’t want to deal with reality. I’ve been through this before. I’m over it. I’m tired. I just want to meet a guy who isn’t married or constantly lying and cheating or randomly melting down at me or planning to disappear after sticking their dick inside me one whole time. Impossible, I know. A woman can dream.

Like I just said, I need new friends. In the meantime, I’ll continue indulging in all the free entertainment this city has to offer in the form of crazy expats and their lifestyles of the bougie and unhinged. Ridiculous. At least I am deriving inspiration from it…

One good thing that came out of this past week: my grandmother called me. At first I was hesitant to pick up the phone, as I have not spoken to her since December and it did not go well. Still, I picked up the phone, mostly out of obligation and guilt. Much to my surprise, the conversation went much better than it has in many years. There was an element of respect there that was not there before. Like, “Oh, okay, you lasted the whole year out in Asia. You’ve survived 7 months on your own in Hong Kong. Maybe there is something there none of us knew about you before because we were too busy trying to control you to actually give you a chance to explore your own identity.”

Maybe! Who knew?!

Shock and awe!

Anyway, at least I am getting something done, even if it isn’t in-line with more traditional paths. I’ve decided not to worry about it. The Law of Attraction will take care of the job thing. I trust the universe to deliver the right employment situation for ME. That situation is clearly not F & B, retail, or teaching yoga/English. I do not know what it is, but a stable source of income is well on its way to me! I trust in the process. I just have to file the papers to get me there.

Alright, it’s about noon, so it’s time to run off and do any of the other 12 million things on my To Do list. May your day be better than mine!

BLOG: Wild Wednesday

Posted on July 2, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Central, County Cavan, dad, HK Auntie, Hong Kong, India, Ireland, Mid-Levels, Neighbor Guy, Secret Society Bar, Stand-up Comedy, The Sketchy Place, World CupLeave a comment

Thursday night.

At the pizza place. Not eating pizza for once.

I am actually on my way to a stand-up comedy open mic that this random Irish guy invited me to last night. I don’t know if I will actually get up there and do a set. I just feel like I should go and do a vibe check. I did prepare some material just in case I do get brave. We’ll see what happens.

Otherwise, last night was ridiculous, as per usual. Yesterday in general was pretty bad for me. My friend and I made plans to go to the beach, but she cancelled, which was really disappointing to me. I didn’t want to go alone, so I stayed home and watched The Darjeeling Limited again and cried about my Dead Daddy Issues. What a great way to spend a holiday! LOL!

I thought maybe it was better to sit with the grief for once instead of trying to drown it out with substances. Painful but necessary.

After a very long nap, I woke up and decided to go out instead of staying home and feeling sorry for myself. I went up to the Secret Society, which was DEAD AF! It was awesome. I was sitting there writing, keeping to myself, enjoying the fact that the playlist on deck was literally all of my mix CDs from when I was a teenager, and that’s when it happened.

Some random older man came in, looked right at me, sat down next to me, and immediately started talking to me. Ugh. First he tried to guess where I’m from. He guessed every country except the US before finally deciding I was Polish. He said he couldn’t figure me out because I wear Pumas and heavy winged eyeliner like they do in the Middle East? Whatever. Finally, I revealed I was American. Then he tried to guess what part of the US I’m from. Then he tried to guess my age. I just sat there messing with him for awhile. It was funny!

He told me he’s from Denmark. Some kind of shipping magnate or something. He didn’t say exactly what he does. I don’t really care anyway. We chatted for awhile about Brazil, which was a pleasant surprise. Then he asked me to come home with him to his gigantic two-story apartment up in the Mid-Levels. He was like, “I promise we’ll just hang out in the kitchen and drink wine.”

Obviously, I said no. As soon as I said no, he was like, “You’re so angry! Why are you angry?” IDK because I was just crying over my dead dad all day and now some creepy old man is trying to lure me back to his apartment so he can Weinstein me? Gee, I wonder!

He followed me on Instagram and the first thing I saw on his page were pictures of his wife and children. Like… really confused about your plan right now, bro. Do you keep your family on the first floor and you mistresses on the first floor? What is happening here?

It gets worse. He wanted my WhatsApp number and when I looked at his picture, he was using a picture of himself from when he was 22! This man is in his 50’s! He has white hair and a giant beer belly! That is literally catfishing! I just can’t with these men and their delusions. How do you even take yourself seriously right now?

Insanity.

Finally, he left, so I went back down the escalator to the Cantina to visit my friend as she closed down the bar. After a brief chat, I set off to walk home. This is when the night finally got interesting.

As I was walking home, I passed the corner bar on Peel Street and saw my favourite “Auntie” standing out front. Everyone knows this lady. I don’t know exactly what she “does.” I always see her working in different places along the escalator. After last night, I’m officially convinced she is some kind of local Gangster Boss who keeps the neighborhood bar scene in line. I love it. Low-key obsessed. Legendary.

I chatted with her for a bit. She got me a beer and went off to do her business, whatever that may be. Right at that moment, a very tall, sexy Aussie beefcake walked across the street, looked at me, looked at her, and immediately came inside to say hello to her and introduce himself to me.

Naturally, the first question I asked him was, “So, you are Aussie, huh? Can you wrestle a crocodile?”

He laughed at me and shrugged his shoulders casually. “Actually, I can,” he said.

“Great, then you can definitely handle me!”

He kept laughing at me. He thought I was a riot! We sat for a bit talking and then two Irishmen came into the bar. They knew the Aussie, so we all started talking together. They invited us to go to another bar to watch whatever World Cup game was on TV, so we followed them to the next location. Keep in mind it was like… 1am at this point.

So we get there and everyone is all into their soccer. I don’t personally give a fuck about soccer. I just like the part at the end when they score the winning goal and take their shirts off and run around the field. What can I say? Objectifying beautiful men is its own sport.

I just watched the room instead. There were three die-hard DRC fans wearing jerseys, singing the Congolese National Anthem in French. Lots of people who were there specifically to see England lose and a handful of people who were there to see England win. I guess England won? I don’t really care.

The Aussie guy ordered a beer, didn’t drink any of it, and then just got up and left the table to disappear into the night. Guess he didn’t want to wrestle this crocodile after all.

I started chatting with the Irishmen instead. They told me the place where I traced my Irish ancestry to (County Cavan) is known as the biggest shithole in all of Ireland. I said, “Well, that’s why my family got on a boat and left.” They thought that was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

As it turns out, one of them does stand-up comedy. He invited me to a comedy open mic night he is hosting in my neighborhood tonight. My friend was THRILLED! She has been pushing me to do it for MONTHS! I don’t know if I will do it. I’m just going for the vibe check.

I prepared something just in case. It’s my “Six Nations” routine, lol. I don’t think it will fit into 3 minutes though. I don’t even know what I could fit into three minutes. That’s why I’m just going to watch for now. I gotta watch how they do it so I can learn. TV comedy specials are great, but you’re seeing a professional, polished product. You’re not seeing them at amateur hour working the crowd and testing out material. That’s where the real learning happens.

Anyway, I used the incident to tell my neighbor to go fuck himself. Like, see? I do more than just get drunk and make out with random guys in elevators! He’s just jealous that he is not one of the guys in the elevator with me. That’s on him.

I still invited him to the 4th of July party in spite of his weird behavior last Saturday night. He doesn’t know I plan on imitating his British accent all night and calling him a “dirty old bird.” I don’t even know what that means. I just saw it in an old British movie this week and now I’m going to call him that forever. Just a bit o’ cheeky banter. Nothing serious. Just gotta give it back to him.

We’ll see if he doesn’t chicken out on 4th of July. In the meantime, I am off to the comedy club now. Let’s see what happens!

Ugh, I know, my site has been offline for two weeks. I need to get back on there and fix it up. I’m all out of sorts right now. It’s just like… ugh.

Okay, okay, I really have to go now. Will update on how it went tomorrow. Ta ta!

BLOG: Failure, but with Style & Confidence!

Posted on June 10, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Central, Escalator, Hong Kong, TEFL, Wan Chai, Writing, yogaLeave a comment

Wednesday.

Here we are.

How did my job thing go today?

Oh, it didn’t.

Why?

The usual, well-documented reason. I freaked out, had an anxiety attack, started crying, went into full meltdown mode, and then locked myself in my room and shut off my phone.

Sadly, this is normal for me.

I don’t understand what happened. I did everything right. I prepared. I got enough sleep. I woke up early. I had my coffee, smoked a cigarette, did yoga, wrote a blog post, showered, got dressed, gave myself two extra hours to get there… and then… somehow… I just fell totally and completely apart within the span of about 15 minutes.

Grand.

Maybe I’m just not a people person and that’s why I have an anxiety attack every time I try to force myself to put on the mask and pretend I am a people person?

Maybe I just can’t do these jobs. I can’t be a waitress or a bartender or a barista. I can’t be a yoga teacher or an English teacher. I can’t get up in a room full of people like that and act like a completely different person. I just cannot do that. I would be so much happier if I could choose when I interact with people and how. I want it to all be on my terms. I can’t have it be on their terms.

Yeah so I just… really fucked it all up today. But also… maybe it’s better this way. Maybe I’m just not meant to teach a kindergarten class, or a primary school class, or a secondary school class, or any class in general. And you know what? Honestly… like… no fucking duh!

So what can I do? Ummm… sit alone in the corner, watch people from a safe distance away, and write ridiculous made-up stories about them? I don’t even know anymore. All I know is that I sit here every day watching the people go up and down the Escalator like, “Why can’t I just be normal like them?”

I finally forced myself out of the house after playing Mah Jong for an hour and half straight. I came up the escalator to my fav Greek place. Much to my surprise, my favourite Hong Kong “Auntie” was sitting in the window enjoying a glass of wine alone.

I absolutely love this lady. She has lived in Hong Kong forever! She has all the best stories from the pre-handover, post-handover, pre-Covid, and post-Covid eras of Hong Kong history. She was here for all of it. She watched this neighborhood in Central go from dark allies full of print shops and dirty restaurants to the lively, bright, crowded social scene it is today. Every restaurant and bar owner in Central and Wan Chai knows her. She is the best Auntie to have!

Seeing her instantly put a smile on my face. I was so relieved. I came over to her right away and greeted her. She was so happy to see me. She gave me a big hug. It felt really good after such a shitty, disappointing day.

I told her about my day and she nodded understandingly. “It’s good you find out now it’s not right for you,” she said. “Now you can do better! You have so much talent, so much beauty. You have the most beautiful gift for writing. I see it! Why you not do something with that instead?!”

Everyone knows but me. I’m the only one who doesn’t know it. I’m the only who doesn’t have it figured out. I’m the one who doesn’t know how to take what I have and make it work. That’s why I will always fail…

Ugh, see? Even the restaurant manager just came over to ask me how my book is going. Everyone knows but me. So why can’t I figure out how to make a career and/or money out of this?

I had the most intense vision during meditation this morning. This week I am using the visualization technique of imagining myself packing up a suitcase full of memorabilia representing my past, running to catch the train, dropping the suitcase, and leaving it all behind as I wave goodbye.

Today I took the suitcase and threw it as hard as I could off the back of the train. I watched it explode into a thousand pieces in the station behind me. Each piece turned into a beam of light and took a place on the train platform. The lights hovered in the air for just a moment before transforming into the ghosts of everyone I’ve loved who has passed on. They were all standing on the platform, smiling and waving at me as I headed off on my adventure.

I saw my dad, my grandparents, my friends, my family, my pets. Everyone was there. Even Mad Dog rolled up on his shitty old orange bicycle with a little caddy attached to bag reading “Lemonade Stand.” Each one took a moment to give me a hug and say something special to me before sending me off to Hong Kong. The last thing I saw was my dad looking at me proudly saying, “I’m so proud of you. We are all so proud of you.”

Aww… and now I’m crying in the middle of the restaurant. So embarrassing for my life and my soul. Oh well. The manager literally just told me to make it dramatic. What is more dramatic than bringing yourself to tears while penning your own memoir? Exactly.

Side Bar: This is exactly why I didn’t bother wearing make-up today. I knew I was just going to sit here and write and cry it all off anyway. Pointless. Not even the most waterproof liquid eyeliner can last through my writing process. Trust me; I’ve tried them all.

So yeah, it was a rough day. I just had to sit with myself for a time today and say to myself, “It’s okay if you don’t want to work with children, or people in general. It’s not the right job for you. Trust in the process. Trust in the journey. Trust there is something better ahead for you. You made it this far already, didn’t you?”

I really do love living in Hong Kong. I feel like there is so much here I have yet to see and explore. I’ve been so caught up in trying to be the person everyone else wants me to be or who I think I should be that I’ve forgotten who I really am. I don’t even know who I am anymore. Right now, I feel like I am more lost than ever.

Welcome to life at SEA: Drifting from one shipwreck to another, desperately trying to keep your head above water and avoid all the sharks along the way.

Speaking of sharks, a big old English one dressed in purple just rolled up. I just watched him knock an older Chinese tourist lady out of the way on the Escalator and then mutter an insult to himself on his way across the street. Naturally, he looked right at me in the window, walked in, and sat down one chair away from me. Now he’s talking to himself.

That’s my cue to GTFO! Time to go anywhere that’s not here…

Have a good one!

BLOG: Mickey D’s Meet-Cute

Posted on June 7, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Central, Hong Kong, Pilot Guy, South AfricaLeave a comment

Monday. 2:30am. We are having thunderstorms here in HK. The thunder is very loud and the Lightning is very bright. It keeps me awake at night. Luckily, I napped a lot today during the rain, so it’s okay.

So much to recount from this weekend. It was a lot.

Friday I did more job hunting things. I decided to go out that night. I wore one dress I had picked up on sale at the thrift store around the corner, but walked by and saw this other totally gorgeous dress in the window. I went in to try it on and felt so beautiful. I looked like a Princess!

Needless to say, I made a somewhat irresponsible purchase and wore it out of the store. I felt like I should get myself something nice to celebrate my first year living abroad. Ive been showing a lot of restraint when it comes to buying clothes. I’ve had to replace some necessities like pants and tops, and I needed a coat. But otherwise, I am not going on expensive shopping sprees around the boutiques and stuffing my closet full of expensive dresses I will never wear. Those days are over!

Besides, I have a whole closet I’m waiting to import when I finally get my new apartment. Manifestation ftw.

So I was out wandering about Central in this dress and decided to head up to the cantina. There I got stuck talking to one of these weird anime guys in his mid-40’s. Too much for me. Definitely what I would call a waste of a dress.

I decided to go home a bit earlier than usual. As I was walking home, I met another gentleman on the way. I was coming down the stairs as he was walking up. He looked at me and he just stopped still in his tracks. He stared at me for a moment with his mouth wide open. Then he ran up the stairs to greet me.

The first thing he did was offer me his McDonald’s bag. Seriously! He just held it out to me and said, “Do you want to share this with me? I got two pies! Which do you want? Apple or pineapple?”

LOL!

We have a winner for the best pick up of all time. That’s a good one!

So this gentleman is an airline pilot from South Africa. I know. I cringed at first too. However, he’s more international minded and lives here in HK. He has an HK phone number and apparently lives right around the corner from me. That’s very convenient. Looks like we both frequent the same McDonald’s, lol.

Also, the pilot thing is kinda hot. I’m into the hat. I can see it…

So we sat and chatted. He was very sweet, actually. He said I seem like I’m carrying a lot of weight and he asked me if he could take something off my back for me. I just hit him with the dead daddy issues thing straight away. He didn’t freak out, which is refreshing. Then again, he is from South Africa, so he’s probably qualified to fight a lion and/or crocodile, and therefore deal with me.

I agreed to wander back up to Peel Street with him for a drink. The dress needed redemption. We made it to last call and sat outside on the steps drinking our Tsingtao. The street was eerily quiet and empty. Very uncharacteristic of a Friday night.

We hung out and talked for awhile. He wanted to have sex right away, I didn’t. Boundaries! No more sleeping with strange men! I told him I needed more space and time for that. Luckily for me, he appeared to be very respectful of that fact. Plus he is busy with his own life, as everyone here in HK is, so it’s easier to set boundaries around that sort of thing. He can disappear if he wants to. I just know I prefer to have more space right now.

I went home alone and spent the weekend in bed watching movies and generally rotting. I set up my schedule for the week. I’m nervous about my interview on Wednesday. It’s challenging for me but it’s a good company so I’m going to do my best.

My interview tomorrow, not so much. This company doesn’t have great reviews. They have the name and the prestige, but the reviews were yikes on bikes. I take that sort of thing very seriously. I will check the vibe there tomorrow and see how it is.

I also worked more on my vision boarding for the next few years. I keep emphasizing stability, routine, security, long-term planning. Setting goals and making plans. I’m trying to build up my vision of who I want to become in the next few years. Perhaps maybe someone who is not a total mess? Hmm, yes, I think that would be nice.

Off now. I want to try to get some more sleep before the next storm comes. I don’t mind so much. I think Hong Kong is the most beautiful in the rain.

BLOG: The Forgotten Side Quest

Posted on May 17, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged American Bar, Bangkok, Brazil, Central, China, Haryana, Hong Kong, India, Irish Family, Mid-Levels, Netflix, the Island of Lost Guys, The Russian, The Sketchy Place, WritingLeave a comment

Sunday.

I just looked at my calendar and was shocked by how much time has already gone this month. Crazy.

In two weeks, I will have been gone a whole year. In one month, my visa expires. This is crazy. So crazy. I can’t believe this year has gone by so fast. I feel like I spent most of it barely keeping my head above water. Now I’m finally starting to find my footing and the tides are changing yet again. How I long for stability…

Well, the only way to get stability is to hustle, and even then, it’s always an illusion. As we learned from the TV series “Straight To Hell,” you never know when some hot beefcake will target you, seduce you, and con you out of all of your money and property, leaving you with nothing and no one.

That somewhat unlikely situation aside, I did indeed spend yesterday hustling. I just sent out a bunch of job applications to different English language centers. We’ll see if anything hits. I’m pretty sure it’s all the same ghost job postings that are always up there, but whatever. A job is a job and I need money, so… at least this time I have a better understanding of what exactly I’m up against.

If I don’t get anything here, I’ll try the mainland. I hear the money is better over there. Then again, it is the mainland. It’s not exactly Hong Kong, ya know? The rules are different there. You know what they say: one country, three systems: Hong Kong, Macao, and the Mainland. The OG Triads, lol.

I suppose there’s always Taiwan. No further comment.

Last night I went out with my friend. We went to this Greek place I’ve been to before. They redid the interior to make it significantly less charming. Before it was all blue and painted to look like a Greek cafe with a charming sea view. Now they’ve streamlined it and taken away all the charm in favor of a different, more bland concept. The food is still good but I just hate the new interior.

While we having dinner, my friend asked me a very alarming question about last weekend. She asked me if I remember a little side quest we went on after our visit to The Sketchy Place. Apparently we went to an Indian restaurant and had a whole conversation with an Auntie about yoga, my trip to India, and my piece-of-shit ex-boyfriend from Haryana. I do not remember any of this. Like, at all. Grand!

She was concerned for me because she thought she walked me home in my blacked out state. Instead, I decided to go on a little adventure up to the 7/11 on Peel Street, where I met up with someone I should not have met with. My friend was even more alarmed when I revealed to her that he and I ended up making out under a tree, in spite of the fact that I am not attracted to him, he is not my type, and I don’t want to be involved in whatever his situation is.

Initially, I agreed not to write about this, but now that I understand just how fucked up I actually was that night, I think I should mention that it happened. Obviously, this is not good. I definitely should not have been where I was that night.

My other friend expressed additional concern when we stopped by her bar to visit her after dinner. She said, “Watch her tonight. See how normal she’s acting? It’s only when she goes up to that place that she gets crazy like last week. I think they’re putting something in her drinks.”

This solidified for us that The Sketchy Place is officially off-limits forever. I admit that this is on me. I can’t leave things alone when I should. I let my curiosity get the better of me. I just had to know the truth. Now we know the truth, beyond all reasonable doubt. Something isn’t right there. It’s time to just step away and leave it alone.

For me, this is serving as extra motivation to get my shit together. Only I would accidentally wander into a modern day opium den and get sucked into whatever crazy bullshit is going on there.

Why did this happen to me? Because I don’t have a job. I have too much free time on my hands. I need something productive to do. Time to get to work and stop drinking in bars with increasingly questionable people.

At first I thought it was exciting to meet the so-called scum of society, for academic research purposes only, of course. Now I realize that I need to stay as far away from people like this as humanly possible, especially if I am going to elevate myself to a successful position in society.

It is indeed as my Irish Family in Bangkok said: “You are a Lady. No good will come of you running around down by the docks with all of the riff-raff.”

Truth.

Speaking of riff-raff, last night we met some rich banker lady on a business trip who asked us if we knew where to find cocaine. Ridiculous. These people are such a trip. As previously stated, it’s alarming and terrifying to me how much of the world’s systems are barely being held together by people with active drug addictions. Insanity. Eye-opening, for certain.

Yeah, so, first she asked us if we had any cocaine, then her friend asked us if we are poly. JFC, why aren’t any of these people normal? I guess when you have all the money and all the power, shit gets boring and you gotta spice it up. I can’t even imagine that, personally. I’m still down here at the bottom, scraping by, trying to survive. I guess I’ll figure out the answer to that question later.

Honestly, who wouldn’t be “poly” after two marriages and three kids? You’ve already checked off all the boxes on the life list. Time to throw caution to the wind and have some fun!

Okay, I guess now I know what my plans are for when I’m in my 60’s and my non-existent children are all grown. You know, my non-existent children that came from the eggs I didn’t freeze after The Russian gave me a whole lecture about it, then never came back to fertilize the eggs in question.

That was actually crazy, lol. I just laugh every time I think about him lying in bed next to me buckass naked, lecturing me about my fertility. Like he actually gives a fuck! It’s just funny.

It literally feels like he picked me up by my scorpion tail and checked my underbelly for eggs. It was so weirdly invasive and frankly, way too intimate for a one-night stand. Everything we did was way too intimate for a one-night stand. I just can’t be doing that with strangers anymore. I need an actual partner, for sure.

I’ve been with many men in my life, but none of them ever did anything like that. That was so crazy. Yes, he was really something. I am still thinking about him to this very day. It was an Experience. As with most of my experiences in the last year, I was left alone thinking to myself, “Wow, what was that?”

It was…

Yeah.

Upon further reflection, I can see why the experience was so unsettling for me. I was just sitting there and then suddenly, out of nowhere, here comes this man with impossible amounts of charm and charisma and confidence. He is clearly only seducing me for the purposes of meaningless business trip sex, yet he spends the entire time talking about intimate topics such as marriage and the meaning of partnership and then gives me a fucking lecture about my fertility right at the end. And then he just… fucks off and disappears into a void forever. What the fuck is that? That’s bullshit, that’s what it is. Men are so fucked up. Seriously. Stop picking up random, unsuspecting women at bars who are innocent and looking for love in all the wrong places and get a therapist instead. Ridiculous.

Men are dumb and annoying and this is why I don’t like them. They’re just liars and whores. I’m over it.

Okay, that aside, did anything else weird happen last night? Yes, yes it did. We did not go to the 7/11 on Peel Street because it was raining. Instead, we took a seat at the open corner bar right across the street. The people at this bar were… questionable at best.

There was one woman in there and she was 100% giving crackhead vibes. The Brazilian guy sitting next to her looked at my friend and I like we were fresh meat on a stick. He immediately approached us like he was ready to carve off a slice, you know what I’m saying? Yeah, sure, he was hot and Brazilian and a tennis coach, but the whole situation around us was really not doing it for me. I felt like I was being seduced in Rio by a hottie with a body, only to be robbed of my valuables later. Not into it.

Then his South African friend appeared and asked us if we wanted to go to the jungle with him. Like, hell no, dude. I’ve learned enough about South Africa in the last year to know that I don’t want to go anywhere with you, let alone to “the jungle,” whatever that might be.

I wanted to leave, but this Brazilian dude kept talking and talking and talking and had us blocked in. It was making me nervous, to be honest. Finally, we escaped and went back to my rooftop for a bit. Then my friend went home and I went to bed. No blackouts, no side quests, no unhinged social media posts. Good job, me. Way to act like an actual adult, for once.

This is about the time my friend asked me why I drink so much. The truth is painful. It’s because I was really sad and really lonely and really angry for a very, very, very, very long time. I was not in a position where I could change my life for the better because I was unable to escape the toxic situation I was in. I turned to alcohol and weed because they were the only way I could cope with the fact that I felt like shit every day and had no power to change even though I desperately wanted to.

Now I have changed everything, but the physical chemical addiction and bad habits remain. I recognize that it’s holding me back and causing me serious harm at this point. But… you know… it’s not something I can just stop on my own anymore. The monkey on my back is running the show right now. I know that. I’m not proud of it. I don’t like it. I want to change it. But, you know… rehab is expensive, I live in a foreign country, and I don’t have healthcare back home. It is what it is.

I can only do what I can to minimize consumption at this point. I already killed my 7/11 habit and now I’ve learned the hard way that some people, places, and situations are safer than others. It’s not a good idea to go out alone. It doesn’t end well. It’s not safe. Furthermore, when I go out with my friends, I should feel comfortable enough with them to be sober. I shouldn’t have to hit a three drink minimum before I feel comfortable being myself. What is wrong with me?

This I say as I sit and my favourite brunch place drinking a mimosa to take the edge off from last night. Ridiculous.

Anyway, someday I will turn all of this into a TV show. Who doesn’t love a fatal flaw in a leading character? It’ll be just like Emily in Paris, if Emily struggled with alcoholism behind the scenes. Sort of. I don’t know. I’m still studying teleplay writing at the University of Netflix. I’ll get back to you later.

Speaking of Netflix, I am going home to change into my sweats and curl up in bed with season 2 of Running Point. It’s so rainy and gross out today. It’s the perfect day to rot in bed.

Have a good one!

BLOG: You Want To Go To A Real Party?

Posted on May 13, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Causeway Bay, Central, Finance Bros, Hong Kong, India, SEA, the Phillippeans, The Sketchy Place, The Wolf, WritingLeave a comment

Wednesday.

Strange days, strange nights. My new favourite song lyric is “You’ll get more than you bargained for when you come to Hong Kong.” Ain’t that the truth?

Let me start with Monday night. Late at night, I received a text message from my bartender friend’s mother asking me if I knew where she was. As I had just finished that “Should I Marry A Murderer?” Documentary on Netflix, I immediately panicked. When I didn’t hear from my friend for an hour, I started to spiral. By the next morning, I was fully convinced she had been trafficked or murdered.

I texted her mother asking if she ever showed up. She confirmed that my friend was alive and okay, but the situation she described was unclear. I went to the bar where my friend works in search of her. She was not there, but her Auntie was. I showed her the message and she said, “Oh yeah, last night was crazy. It was a whole thing. I am actually about to go see her right now. Do you want to come?”

Obviously, yes, because I still hadn’t heard from my friend herself, so I was worried. We left the bar and took a cab to Causeway Bay to meet up with my friend at this rooftop bar where she was with her boyfriend. I was so relieved to see her. She explained what happened. She was out drinking and broke her phone, so nobody can currently get ahold of her. Okay, not so bad.

My friend and her Auntie both seemed half-surprised at my concern, but at the same time, they were not really that surprised at all. I have become close with them since I came back to Hong Kong. They share stories with me, I share stories with them, we laugh, we cry, we smoke, we drink. Last night we went out for a girls night and had the best time. We are all real friends now.

It still wigs me out to see how people look at me when I hang out with them. The racism and classism here is so real. There is definitely a sense of “Why is this Western white woman hanging out with Filipina women? Doesn’t she know they’re ‘The Help’? Why are you hanging out with ‘The Help.’”

Probably because I don’t want to spend time around rich white people with active cocaine addictions who classify brown people as “beneath them?” Hmm… just a theory!

Definitely a fish out of water over here. Ugh. I was explaining to them that I’ve grown to resent this concept of “networking” because nine times out of ten, it’s just rich white people doing Coke and Special K together. It’s so depressing to realize the entire financial system on this planet is run by people with active drug addictions, but it is what it is, I guess.

Not exactly a mystery why I, a person who spent 20 years working in the service industry, would want to hang out with other people who work in the service industry. They’re relatable. They have the same perspective as I do. We stand behind the bar and judge the fuck out of the crazy people snorting coke off of dirty bar toilets who somehow think they are “above us.”

Also, I’ve never had a corporate office job and I’ve been trapped out living in the middle of fucking nowhere for 17 years. Now I’m 37 years old and I’m having my first exposure to the “white collar” world. It’s like…. Ugh. Gross.

Most of these people are so out-of-touch with reality. They have no idea we are watching them like they’re characters on a TV show. They just think the people who are bringing them drinks are empty-headed slaves put on earth to serve them because of their presumed “superiority.” It’s ridiculous.

Anyway, we had a good time on the rooftop last night. Plus, we got a discount because my friend had worked there before and everyone on the staff knew her. Perks! I even said to Auntie, “This is your Jack Dawson moment. Like we just surveyed this room of corporate jerks and you looked over at me and said, ‘Do you want to go to a real party now?’”

Yes, yes I do. Take me to the lower decks and we’ll crack open the whiskey and dance until this ship sinks to the bottom of the SEA.

So that’s what we did.

We also wanted to test out the theory that some people and places are safer than others. They have serious concerns about me after hearing my stories about The Sketchy Place and The Wolf. In fact, my friend asked me I remember seeing her on Saturday night after leaving The Sketchy Place. I do not. I barely remember anything about Saturday night, to be honest.

She said I was absolutely fucking shitfaced and she had never seen me in a state like that. She said everyone was concerned because they have all seen me drinking in their bar and they’ve never seen me act like that. I said this is the third instance of a blackout happening at The Sketchy Place. They are very against me going back. I can’t help but agree with them, considering the only two things I remember about being there are watching a drug dealer do business with everyone there and then not having to pay for our tab.

We decided to test out the “How much alcohol can Betsey actually put down before blacking out?” Theory. I was with them all night drinking mojitos, eating snacks, smoking menthols, and laughing hysterically. By the end of it, I was barely tipsy and in a very good mood. This proved to us that yes, The Sketchy Place is, in fact, unsafe, and that I should never go back there ever again.

Mission Accomplished.

Fast forward to this morning. I was not hungover. Not even a little bit. Not even at all. More proof something weird is going on at some of these places. They are convinced I’m being targeted because I’m a writer. They are probably right. It’s not the Triads I’m afraid of here. It’s the Finance Bros and their active drug addictions that make them power-hungry, paranoid, and totally unstable.

I came to the coffee shop, as I always do. However, instead of writing, I launched into a conversion with another writer I met here who is from India. We have a lot in common. He gave me some really good advice and invited me to join a local writer’s group.

I couldn’t help but smile at the fact that I had a vision of Lord Ganesha on a beach in India yesterday, and now there is an Indian man sitting in front of me imparting extremely valuable writing advice. That’s not a coincidence! That’s just Hinduism working its magic.

There are some truly strange things that happen in this world sometimes. Strange, unexplainable things. I believe in all of them. I truly do believe in magic. I believe in it more and more as this year has unfolded. There is no such thing as a coincidence. We always end up exactly where we are supposed to be.

On that note, I am off now. To do what, we don’t know. I’ll let the universe take the lead today. I trust in the process…