BLOG: What A Week!

Posted on September 25, 2026September 25, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Finance Bros, Hong Kong, Mr Bathroom, Neighbor Guy, Secret Society, SoHo QueenLeave a comment

Friday.

At the Secret Society.

I should be socializing right now, but I had to get all of my thoughts out of my head first. It’s been a very long day…

Hmmm…

Where exactly does said day begin?

Where did I leave off last? I think it was… Wednesday?

Yes, that sounds right.

Okay, so I did nothing on Wednesday but take time to recover from that absurd argument with my absolutely ridiculous family. That conversation made me ask myself, “How the fuck did this bitch even get into law school when she never even asks any questions?”

She just comes at me with all of these absolutely insane assumptions. She doesn’t even take her time to do her research at all. How can I even have a conversation with someone when they literally do not acknowledge my reality at all?

Anyway, yeah, that was insane. All of them are insane. I’m so grateful the chances of ever seeing them again are as low as they are. Even having to stand in the same room as them is just… grating.

Okay, so… what did I do on Thursday? Oh, right, I got my financial shit together, sort of. Then I went out to the Secret Society to socialize. This is where my story really begins…

How did last night go?

Hmm…

Let me try to remember…

Well, it started with me sitting down next to this guy who I can only describe as the Irish Slytherin. Slytherin McSlithery, if you will, haha. He definitely doesn’t like me. Every time I see him, he makes a cringey face at me. I called him out on it last night. I did an imitation of said face and said, “I love the fact that every time I see you, you make a face at me like this. So honest. So real. I really appreciate that about you.”

He just narrowed his eyes and made the same face at me again, lol. He’s actually sitting across the way from me right now. He already asked to borrow my lighter. I lent it to him because I don’t have any hard feelings about it. It is what it is. I don’t give a fuck if he likes me.

Then I was greeted by Mr. Bathroom Guy, which, as we all know, I never really enjoy. I know in his culture they do the kiss-on-the-cheek thing, but he definitely tries to use that as an excuse to get super handsy with me. I’ve told him not to do it, but he doesn’t listen to me. It makes me uncomfortable. Everyone in the room can see it, so therefore it makes them uncomfortable. It’s just… uncomfortable. He just can’t keep his dirty little paws off of me. Hates it!

On this particular day, he used the opportunity to whisper in my ear, “Remember what I said to you to the other day?” Then he switched to the other side. “Remember the offer I made?”

Oh yes, I definitely remember that. As we all know, I wrote that shit down as soon as I escaped this place. And wouldn’t you know it? The answer is still… NO!

Ugh.

In case you’ve already forgotten, the offer this sleazeball made me was to find me a nicer apartment and pay for it on the condition that I essentially become his mistress. I said no for obvious reasons, the biggest being that I don’t actually like him! I’m not attracted to him at all. He’s so slimy and gross! My family just cut me off and I still won’t debase myself enough to sleep with him just to pay my rent.

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to watch this incredibly uncomfortable interaction as if they were waiting to see what I would do and say. I just made a cringey face behind his back and rolled my eyes. Next time I see him I just want to say, “Please don’t touch me like that again. I’ve asked you multiple times now to stop. Please just stop.”

Yeah, we’ll see if that actually works, haha.

Meanwhile, his lady friend (not the girlfriend) was watching this interaction with a look of pure jealousy on her face. Like, girl… I’ve told you before. If you want him, you can have him. Please take him away from me. I don’t like him at all. I only socialize with him because I have to. I am not into this man at all.

I’m still secretly obsessing over my neighbor, who has suddenly decided to appear three times this week after two months of nothing. Weird. I just glare at him and roll my eyes when I see him. I think we both know it’s just for show.

I think we also both know he looks absolutely ridiculous with his new bleach blonde hair. Like, what even is that look, bro? Did you pay actual money to get that terrible dye job, or did you just pour peroxide on your head after a bad day while listening to Eminem?

The world may never know. The only question we can ask now is…

Will the real Slim Shady please stand up?

Hahahahahaha!

I can’t.

I think he might actually be crazier than I am, which is… definitely some food for thought. Is this just another Andrew? Because I don’t think I can handle another Andrew.

Anyway…

Meanwhile, back at the Secret Society…

I chatted with one of the old Finance guys for awhile and asked him some finance questions that I already knew the answer to. I just wanted to make sure I was actually right and not deluding myself again. As per usual, I was right. I am definitely way smarter than any of the idiots in my family give me credit for. It is what it is.

Hmmm… then that lawyer kid was here. He’s pretty chill. He’s super young but it’s cool.

Hmm… that’s all I remember for now. Who else is in this room right now?

Oh yes, I completely failed to mention the fact that the writer guy whose identity I was investigating a few weeks ago was here on Monday. He acted like a total fucking misogynist jerk to me. He also mansplained how to open a jar to the bartender after she had already opened said jar, which was just… annoying. I guess that’s why they say the phrase, “Don’t ever meet your heroes.”

He’s actually here right now. I have no interest in talking to him anymore. I tried to talk to him the other day and he was pretty rude to me. He was telling me to stop talking and making side-jokes to his friend about how women should be silent and obedient and that’s why he married his Japanese wife. So Gross, I know.

It’s just like… jail… straight to jail.

That happened before he mansplained how to open the jar to the bartender. Once he did that, it was game over for me forever. I have zero interest in ever engaging him again. It is what it is.

Hmm…

I tried not to stay out late last night. In fact, my lawyer friend walked me back down the hill to the Cantina so I could introduce him to my friends there. He said he likes to go there and write sometimes, so I thought it was a good idea to introduce him to the staff. Everyone got along, which was grand.

I was on my way home when the SoHo Queen spotted me and dragged me into whichever bar she was in on Peel Street. We had a drink and then she dragged me over to a French bar, where she introduced me to several Frenchmen I’ve never met before.

It’s funny how the different expat bubbles work here. Usually I do not meet French people, even though there many of them here. The Secret Society is generally a place where English speakers hang out, meaning it’s primarily English, Irish, Scotch, Aussie, Canadian, and American. The French have their own spots in HK. It is what it is.

I do not remember much about this part of the night except for the fact that I attempted to use my broken French and they weren’t mad about it. This is the first time in my life I’ve spoken to a French person without them getting angry, correcting me, or them changing the language to English. I understand far more than I can speak, so I told them just to speak in French and I would respond in French or English depending on how deep I needed to go in thought. It went pretty well, I think. Then again, we were all pretty drunk at that point, so who really knows?

I find French people in HK are generally way chiller than French people in France. That’s why they’re here, after all. They didn’t come here because they only want to speak French to French people. They come here because want to mix with an international community. That’s why all the expats come here. That’s definitely why I came here.

At some point I decided to wander home and go to sleep. Sometime during the night, I had a nightmare and woke up screaming. I have no idea what the nightmare was about. I don’t remember it at all. The only reason I know I had a nightmare is because I woke up screaming “NO, NO, NO! I WON’T GO BACK! I WON’T GO BACK!” I jumped out of bed and immediately started crying. It took a minute to realize I was actually in the middle of a full-blown panic attack. Grand!

It took some time for me to recover from said panic attack. Usually I can talk myself through it, but I had trouble this time because I had no idea what I was melting down over in the first place. Yeah, it sucked. No idea what triggered it or what it was about. I can only imagine it involved my family or South Dakota. That’s usually what my nightmares are about.

I had a To Do list I was planning to work through today, but I was so distressed about my unknown nightmare and subsequent panic attack that I had to take another day to recover. I just stayed in bed and watched Disney movies all day. Then I finally got up, showered, got dressed, went to grab some food, and made my way up here.

All of the regulars are here, but I honestly don’t feel like socializing with anyone at all. I thought I did but now that I’m here, I just want to go home and put on my annoyingly hot neighbor’s sweatpants and go to bed. I do have a long day on Lamma Island planned for tomorrow, after all.

Yeah, I’m not even drinking my drink right now. I’m just sitting here in the corner typing away and side-eyeing Slytherin McSlithery for blatantly stealing my lighter from me. So annoying. I better get that back before he wanders off with it.

Hmm… was there anything else I wanted to say? I don’t think so. I just had to get all of the thoughts out of my head before I started chatting with everyone. I guess I’ve done that now.

I guess I’m off to do that now. I have to pretend like my life isn’t falling apart and that I actually find their finance chat interesting. Yawn. Like I said… I think I’d rather be at home right now, even though Mr. Next Door is literally fucking driving me crazy by just silently existing on the other side of the wall.

Ugh.

Okay, off now. Ta ta!

BLOG: The Hong Kong Judging Club

Posted on September 4, 2026September 4, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Auntie Bella, Finance Bros, HKJC, Hong Kong, horses, Mardi Gras, Mid-Levels, Neighbor Guy, Nepal, New Orleans, Peel Street, Secret Society, SoHo Queen, South Dakota, Thailand, the Island of Lost Guys, The Peak, The Wolf, Wan ChaiLeave a comment

Friday.

At the brunch spot. It’s about 4pm. I decided to eat before I go out tonight because I have learned my lesson, theoretically.

The server is from Nepal. I chat with her every time I come here. She’s pretty cool. She just asked me for my contact info. She wants to meet me on her day off so she can sit down with me and tell me her story. She offered to pay me to write it for her, but I told her she can just gift me a bottle of wine instead.

She has told me before that she sends most of the money she makes working here in Hong Kong back home to her family in Nepal. I think we can all agree they need that money more than I do right now. Do I need money? Yes, of course I do. Do I need money badly enough to take it from a Nepalese person after a major catastrophic disaster directly caused by climate change wiped out dozens of villages and killed thousands of people?

No. No, I do not.

Honestly, she doesn’t even have to bring me the wine. It would be an honor for me to sit down with her and give her a chance to share her story and speak her truth. I am flattered that she asked me to take down her life story. She doesn’t have to give me anything in return. I know she feels like she should pay me for any and all services rendered, but I’m not taking it. I refuse.

It is what it is.

Now for the juicy stuff. And by that I mean, the Secret Society content we are all waiting for…

So, first thing is first, our friend from the bathroom is still a problem. I saw him at The Wolf on my way up to the Mid-Levels. Without revealing too much, I will explain that The Wolf is located on a corner with one side that opens directly to the street. I usually walk by there on my way up the hill to check who is in there. I pretend like I’m not looking, but I am 100% always looking!

On this evening, Mr. Bathroom was sitting there street-side with two of his friends. I walked right by him, heard him speaking Spanish, and recognized his voice. I pretended I hadn’t heard anything and kept staring straight ahead as I walked past. When I got on the escalator and was far enough up so as to no longer be seen, I peaked into the bar and confirmed that it was indeed him.

As soon as I saw him, I thought to myself, “He’s going to follow me up to the Secret Society. I bet any amount of money he’s going to finish this drink and suggest to his friends they move on. I know it. I just know it.”

As per usual, I was right in my assumption. I walked into the Secret Society and he showed up with his friends about 10-15 minutes later.

Like, OF COURSE he followed me. Of course he did! He knows I don’t like him or respect him and that I think he’s a disgusting pig. Why wouldn’t he follow me?

Men are weird like that. I told my neighbor I think he’s hot and he literally vanished into thin air overnight. I told this Finance Bro I think he sucks, so now he’s following me around like a stray dog. Ridiculous.

Auntie Bella WAS right: If you want real results with a man, Call Him Ugly.

I decided to ignore this intrusion and chat with my English and Irish banker friends instead. They were sitting with a friend who I had not previously met before. He was wearing floral swim trunks and a t-shirt. He told me he just got back from two months in Thailand. Lucky him!

He told me he “works with horses.” I googled him this morning and that’s… definitely an understatement, lol. I will not go into further detail because one of the conditions of my membership at this establishment (or so I perceive) is that I do not doxx the other members.

This establishment is the sort of place where the big wigs like to hang out without having to feel “special,” or however you want to say it. In their lives and their jobs, they are Very Important. At this place… they are just normal people out having the craic at the pub after work. They will be vague about what they do for work, they may or may not give you a fake name to throw you off their trail (I am guilty of doing this myself, so I get it), and they will undersell themselves every time. They could be the top person in their field in the entire fucking world and they will not tell you.

Do you follow me?

Yeah. Right. That’s why I’m calling it “The Secret Society.” It literally is what it is.

I digress. This gentleman did allude to the fact that he was kind of a big deal multiple times, but he kept derailing my questions about his job because he didn’t want to talk about it. Obviously, I thought this was quite hilarious when I looked him up later. I just laughed when I saw his CV like, “This is the same man I just met wearing floral swim trunks to the bar in his post-Thailand haze?”

As the kids say… Sometimes it really do be like that tho. *shrugs*

He asked me to come home with him, but I said no, because duh. Then he wanted to know if I would ever date a man twenty years older than myself (obviously I already have) and if I am looking for a boyfriend. I said, “Maybe, but it depends on what you’re offering me.”

“What do you want?”

“I just want to have fun. Get me out of this goddamn bar. Let’s go have fun adventures around Hong Kong. I’m fun to have on your arm at a really boring party. I’m a member of the HKJC: The Hong Kong Judging Club.”

He gave me a little smile and took down my number, then left to walk up the hill to his luxury apartment or whatever. I guess we’ll see what happens now. Haven’t heard from him yet! Next time remind me to call him ugly…

LMFAO!

Yeah, I know, it’s not great, but it is what it is. Banging random hot sexy beefcakes is fun, but it would be way more fun to have a rich boyfriend who takes me to horse races, yacht parties, and on impromptu trips to Thailand.

IT IS WHAT IT IS!

After he left, I realized I was alone in the bar with Mr. Bathroom, his friends, and a lady I’ve seen hanging around him many times. She says they are “very close friends.” Mmmmhmmmm. I bet you are, Ms. “Loudly Brags About Her Sex Toy Collection To Anyone in the Bar Who May or May Not Want to Hear This Information.”

Anyway, this gangbang-in-the-making had “NOPE” written all over it, so I left the bar and headed on back down the hill.

I stopped at the Cantina to visit with my friend, then ran into the SoHo Queen at the corner bar on Peel Street on my way home. Naturally, she wanted to hang out, so I agreed, but only upon the condition that she never take me back to Wan Chai ever again.

Instead we went to a random bar around the block and got shitfaced. I love that lady. She’s definitely scary and crazy and ridiculous, but she’s also a motherfucking gangsta-ass bitch and I have nothing but respect for her.

I know, I sound like a shallow social-climber who only cares about money, power, and status. What can I say? I just spent 17 years of my life living in South Dakota, being treated like shit and kicked around for sport by the dumbest of the dumb and the lowest of the low. We all know I’m better than that.

As we have seen by the EXTREME reactions to my writing in multiple parts of the world, I am a very powerful person. At this point in my life, I have simply chosen to align myself with the people I see as my equals in this world. In order to become my best self, I must surround myself with other powerful people who can elevate me to the level I should have been on this entire time. I’ve spent enough time running around with the riff-raff down by the docks. That’s not who I really am deep down in my soul.

And honestly? I just want the lifestyle I grew up with back. I’m sick of struggling. I’m sick of working low-level jobs that any idiot could do for scraps from the table. I’m sick of being surrounded by people who act like crabs in a bucket. I want to climb to the top of the Peak, dress up in all white, and look down at everyone in my old life like they are nothing but tiny little insignificant nobodies to me. I want to get to a point in my life where nobody can ever touch me again. I don’t know what I have to do to get to that point, but I do know the entire idea of it is motivating AF. I didn’t come to Hong Kong to be a teacher. I came to climb to the top of the motherfucking mountain. So that is what I am going to do…

Off now. I should be finishing my Island of Lost Guys story, but I’m still letting it simmer for a bit. My Neighbor’s character has a lot of things to say, I guess. Let the man speak!

In the meantime, I will enjoy this sudden role reversal where I am the one who is now sitting up on the hill dressed up in white looking down at him. Just kidding, of course. Afternoon tea on the veranda is soooooo not my thing! I much prefer a balcony decorated with Mardi Gras beads where I can chill in my mask with a frozen daiquiri and look down at the plebs drunkenly wandering the streets far below me. As we say in New Orleans, laissez les bons temps rouler!

It is what it is… 🙂 🙂 🙂

Welcome to the Hong Kong Judging Club!

BLOG: Questions Answered

Posted on August 31, 2026August 31, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Finance Bros, Hong Kong, MFA, Mid-Levels, Neighbor Guy, Secret Society, South Africa, Thailand, the Island of Lost Guys, The Wolf, WritingLeave a comment

Tuesday.

I was so sick all day yesterday. I don’t know if it was something I ate or the amount I drank, or if it was too much in a short span of time. I had stomach issues all weekend and then yesterday I just couldn’t get out of bed at all. It’s better today but I definitely already made a trip to the 7-11 to re-up on the Vitamin C/D/Zinc magical mixture that seems to cure most of my stomach problems.

I still don’t feel great, but I have stuff to get done today. For example, my apartment has fallen into disrepair because I went out four days in a row after barely leaving at all. It’s pretty easy to tidy up because it’s so small, but some effort is still required there. I just look around the room right now and think to myself, “Ugh, this HAS to get done today or the rest of the week will be completely shot in terms of productivity.”

Meanwhile, I did not account for Sunday, so I must do that now.

I started off my Sunday with the intention of making a bad life choice. Luckily for me, I did not make that choice. Instead, I went to my favourite brunch spot and wrote a little bit. Then I went up to the Secret Society to socialize.

Originally I intended it to be my “warm-up” so I would feel more comfortable making this bad decision, but by the time I got there, it was already too late. I thought about it too much and decided not to wander on back down the path of no return. What’s the point? What is all this for? It’s just… not worth it to me anymore.

Instead I chose to stay at the Secret Society and see who showed up on that particular day. My Irish friend stopped in for about 5 minutes to chat with me. My British Banker Uncle stopped in, ordered a drink, disappeared somewhere in the back, then re-appeared a short while later looking very, very happy. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and a hug and then left. No other explanation other than that. Didn’t even take his second drink on the BOGO Happy Hour deal. Weird.

Who else was there?

There was some super weird South African guy who was definitely married, definitely wearing tropical swim trunks, and definitely giving sleazy AF vibes right from the moment he saw me. I could tell he was going to be a problem because I caught him STARING at me multiple times before he finally moved in, as I knew he eventually would. He led with “I lived in Phuket for 4 years. I miss Thailand so much. I lived like a King when I was there. Now I have to live here in Hong Kong because of my family. Ugh! I like my kids, but not my wife. What about you?”

Ugh, gross! I instantly got the ick. The way men talk about their trips to Thailand should forever be put on the “Dating Red Flag” list. The things that I saw when I was there… unforgettable in every way. Ewwwww.

Anyway, so he was being annoying, but luckily this other banker I know and his wife showed up to rescue me. This guy would be the one who initially confronted me about being a writer and sitting in there watching people. He’s pretty chill, his wife is pretty chill, whatever.

As I said, I find these Finance Peeps to be pretty fun to hang out with in general. I don’t know why. It doesn’t really make sense. I guess maybe it’s because I get to be special and different, as opposed to hanging out with other creatives who are all special and different too?

Whatever…

Let’s see… who else…

There was a British couple in there that stopped by while on vacation. The wife was a teacher and had lived in four different countries, including the UAE. I thought she was really interesting to talk to. I enjoyed hearing her stories about her various experiences.

She mentioned that she “lived in New Haven, Connecticut.” The bartender, who lived in NYC once upon a time and is naturally a very straight-shooter, gave her a look and said, “Soooo you went to Yale.”

The lady looked down and blushed a little and said, “Yeah, it’s just a small school, ya know?”

Hahahaha.

The bartender and I were both very amused by this. It’s an East Coast thing. My dad would do the same thing. He would be like, “I lived in Cambridge.” Oh, so you went to Harvard? “Yeah, it’s just a small school. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

Ivy Leaguers. They are what they are, lol.

Ah, this leads me into my next character. I went outside for a cigarette after the room had cleared. This old man with a very thick Scottish accent walked right up to me outside and said, “Are you from Paris? I met a French woman once from Paris. She liked to smoke cigarettes too. I would always say to her, ‘Hey baby, can you blow some smoke in my face.’ So whaddaya say? Hey baby, will you blow some smoke in my face?”

I just started laughing right in his face. Like, what? This dude had to be in his 70’s or 80’s. Just ZERO filter. Hilarious! There was also something weirdly poetic and rehearsed about it, so I marked him down mentally as I watched him limp on inside the bar.

Later he came back outside and approached me again. He asked me what I do. I told him I’m a writer. He stopped and looked me up and down and said, “You know I’m a writer too. I’ve been publishing for 50 years. I’ve traveled all over the world. I’m on my way to teach a class over in Canada right now.”

He told me his name is Ian, but I have not found his work yet. He would not tell me his last name. He said it will be more fun for me if I have to guess. So, since I don’t usually use real names, I will make an exception here, because I have no further information than this.

Then he sat down and proceeded to give me ALL the professional writing career advice. I would say the majority of it is still relevant. He was big on the MFA path, which is unusual to hear. Usually the MFA students I meet are really fucking bitter about their experiences and say a lot of negative things. It was refreshing to hear someone said, “I had a positive experience at my MFA program. It benefitted me a lot. I have a successful career now as a writer because of it.”

He was also big on the “patronage/grant/outside funding” thing. He was explaining all of the ways to get money from people to support my creative goals. Then he looked at me and said, “You’ve been living in Hong Kong for almost a year now and you still haven’t found yourself a rich banker to take care of you? You need to get on that.”

Oh, right, as if it’s so easy in this day and age to just go out on a whim and find a random man who isn’t already dating/engaged/living with/married to someone else. Gee, thanks, Grandpa. Never thought of that one. Nope, not once did it ever occur to me to find a rich husband to support my creative career goals.

Haha, just kidding. It has occurred to me many times. It’s just that it’s hard to find someone who is single, attractive, and willing to tolerate me on my bad days. Most of them just don’t have the emotional intelligence required to understand someone like me. It is what it is.

I would say most people in general lack the emotional intelligence to understand anyone with complex trauma. I would say most people are very surface level. They don’t like dealing with complex ideas, people, or situations. If they can’t understand it in the same amount of time it takes to watch a TikTok, then they’re out. The lack of empathy for others in this world is very real.

I’m just at a point where I understand myself to accept myself for who I am in this moment and love her anyway. Sure, my goal in general is to be healthy and happy. I’m very invested in that project. However, some days are still really bad for me. For example, I get very emotional over my dead daddy issues. I wish I had someone to talk to about it, but I don’t. I just have to find ways to deal with it, like yoga and hiking the Peak, and writing in my blog, and getting drunk and singing and dancing on the rooftop.

Summarizing this point: look at my neighbor. He has complained to me multiple times about volume control. I get this, but he went too far on this, and this is why I’m mad at him. Instead of just leaving his complaint at that, he felt the need to address some of the things he could hear me saying to myself, to the camera, to my iPad, and give me what he thought was the “tough love” I needed.

Wrong. So wrong.

It was all very surface level. He had no understanding of my situation at all. He was just doing his British thing and wearing all white while sitting on top of the hill looking down at me. Then he proceeded to show me, multiple times, that he himself is not a financially or emotionally stable human being, and therefore his judgments are irrelevant to me.

Anyway, I digress. Yeah, it would be nice to have a rich banker funding my creative lifestyle, but what I really need is someone emotionally stable enough to communicate with me in a solution-oriented way. Like, “Hey, you’re having a bad day today. What exactly are you upset about? Are you caught in a loop where you are reliving traumatic memories, or are you cranky because you haven’t eaten anything today? What do you need to do right now in this moment to feel better? How can we get you back on track so you don’t go off the rails?”

Personally, I don’t think that’s very much to ask for from your partner. That’s like… the most basic level, for me. I really need someone who knows how to communicate and wants to work together. But no! Apparently this is too much to ask for, especially from men, most of whom look at a woman and think, “How can I break her down psychologically so that she gives up on all of her goals and dreams in life? Then she can focus solely on servicing me, as if she were nothing more than a convenient household appliance?”

Yeah, it’s really a mystery why someone like me has ZERO fucking interest in dealing with a man like that.

Sigh.

Anyway, back to the writer…

He finished his drink and wandered off back into the night. It was at this point that closing time was looming in. I settled my tab and finished my drink as I watched the bartender start his closing tasks. That was the exact moment when our friend from the bathroom wandered in…

It was just the two of us alone with the bartender, so I took the opportunity to ask him the burning question on my mind: Why don’t you just marry your girlfriend?

So, first he pretended he never said that he wanted to get married. Then he went into some whole thing about how they are equals so they don’t need to do the formal piece of paper thing. Then he admitted to me that she had two kids (not his) that he’s taking care of, which annoyed me even more.

Legally speaking, this is not a good situation to be in. People say that piece of paper doesn’t matter, but… it really does. Trust me. Someone could get sick or die tomorrow, and you’re gonna find out REAL FAST how much that piece of paper matters, lol. Ask me how I know!!!

I think people just don’t plan ahead for these kinds of situations. Anyway, it definitely gave me the insight I was looking for in terms of human relationships. This is not the kind of relationship I would ever want, personally. I need that piece of paper. That shit is real and important. Now I know it’s 100% non-negotiable for me.

The amusing part of this conversation was when he looked me straight in the eyes and told me he was happy. Bro, you ran down here to the bar 15 minutes before closing time (11pm), then proceeded to down THREE double tall rum & cokes over the course of our very brief conversation.

That, combined with the incident between us at The Wolf, tells me something is extremely off here. I guess it’s technically none of my business. I just wanted to understand what’s going on with this guy and why he acts the way he does. So now I know.

I’m just like that, I guess. If someone is acting weird towards me, I want to know why. Like, this clearly isn’t about me right now, so there must be something up with you. Time for an investigation. What are you hiding? What are you insecure about? What is eating at you so much that you feel the need to take out your bullshit on me?

Now we know.

The bar closed down and I waited outside for him to leave. I smoked a cigarette and called an Uber, which is something I usually don’t do. However, I’ve learned that sometimes, it really is better for me to get a ride back home instead of walking all the way down the hill. I decided this was one of those days.

Then I came home and when I woke up in the morning, I wasn’t feeling well. I made myself some ginger tea with lemon and honey, then spent the day asleep. Then I slept all night. I feel better today, but my stomach is still revolting against me. I guess this means I’m taking a break from going out again.

Back to my yogi diet of fruit smoothies, herbal teas, giant salads with everything on them, my special Ayurvedic spicy noodles recipe, and the snacks I know are safe. I’m pretty good at sticking with my healthy diet. Like I said when I was in Bali, I tried to go full vegetarian but I was missing the protein too much. So as of right now, my biggest weakness is still McDonald’s…

Okay, that’s all I have to say today. I have an apartment to tidy and a trip to the market to make. Then I can work on finishing my Island of Lost Guys story. I see now why it stalled. Apparently my Neighbor’s character has more to say. Okay. Fair enough. We’ll keep that open until it finally feels like it’s “done.”

Off now! Have a good day. Farewell!

BLOG: The Court Jester

Posted on August 30, 2026August 30, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Banker Uncle, Finance Bros, Hong Kong, Mid-Levels, Neighbor Guy, Secret Society, the Island of Lost GuysLeave a comment

Sunday.

Here we are at brunch. I’m still trying to finish my episode of the Island of Lost Guys. It’s just about done. I just can’t get those last little bits connected for whatever reason. I’ve been working on it since Wednesday.

I decided to wander back up to the Secret Society last night. I got there pretty late, so I wasn’t expecting much. I saw my Irish friend and my “Uncle,” who is an English banker. He is the one who gave me the stack of spy novels.

I chatted with the two of them for a bit. Once again, I asked my Uncle why he and his associates seem to be so welcoming of me in their club. He explained it to me this way:

“You have no idea what my days are like. I sit and stare at spreadsheets all day long. I’m working 13, 14, 15 hours a day. I barely talk to anyone at the office. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. I’m not a creative person. I could never do what you do. You’re so alive. You have interesting stories to tell, you can carry on a conversation with just about anyone, and you’re funny as fuck. I didn’t like you at first, but as I’ve gotten to know you better, I find you to be extremely entertaining. You bring light to an otherwise dreary day.”

Awwwwww! That’s so sweet!

But also, that does officially make me the Court Jester, as I said in my previous post. Since this is such an illustrious post, I just have one question and one question only: when do I get paid?

Meanwhile, my neighbor is sitting on the other side of the wall like, “I hear that!”

I seriously haven’t seen him in like a month now. He straight-up pulled a vanishing act on me. It’s incredible. True talent, right there. Love him in his new role as the Invisible Man. It’s really doing it for me, haha. I can tell he’s really committed to this role. What can I say? I inspire the best in people. I’m definitely bringing out the best his acting abilities have to offer, lol.

Well, inevitably, I couldn’t handle the obsession anymore, so I made the decision to get under someone else. Enter Some Random Stranger. I don’t know his name, I don’t know what he does, I don’t even know where he’s from. Nothing. I know nothing, and I don’t care. The less I know about him, the better. I have zero interest in adding another character to my roster. I just wanted to get laid.

I’m just gonna say that he definitely looks like he could be a rugby player. Therefore, we’re just gonna say he’s a rugby player. An international rugby player who travels all over the world. So, you know, obviously I let him go ahead and tackle me to the ground. And now I’m about to go do it again. It is what it is!

My goal here is really just to forget about my neighbor, because it’s become very obvious this movie ends with me going to Cambodia and whispering his name into a temple. It is what it is.

So I’ll just go get this itch scratched and hopefully we can forget all of this ever happened. Then I will be free from distractions and get back to writing my book.

Okay, that’s all for now. I have a story to finish…

BLOG: Be A Muse or Be Muse’d

Posted on August 28, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Bangkok, Bloody Mary's, Finance Bros, Hong Kong, Mid-Levels, Neighbor Guy, Secret Society, the Island of Lost GuysLeave a comment

Friday.

Here we are at the Cantina. I’ve spent the last three days working on my new episode of The Island of Lost Guys, which obviously features my neighbor. I am planning to tell him about it. I guess I have to write an apology note to him and say, “I wrote you this story as my apology for writing mean things about you when I was mad.”

My decision to Muse-ify him was the right one. I’m not angry or fixating on him anymore now that he’s been properly written down on the page. I did have a dream last night where he was dressed up like one of the Avengers though, so… maybe I am still fixating just a little bit, lol.

Meanwhile, up at the Secret Society, the situation changes by the hour. Yesterday I went in there to write. I was up there for about three hours working on my story when the regulars all showed up for a party.

One of them went upstairs to his apartment and brought me back a stack of espionage novels set in Hong Kong. I guess I’ll be flipping through those in my spare time if anyone needs me, though I admit I’m having a hard time taking an espionage novel written by someone using the name “M.C. Butterworth” seriously.

Otherwise, our friend from the bathroom is still making casual passes at me. He keeps saying he wants to get married. Last night I asked him why he doesn’t just marry his girlfriend and everyone laughed at me like I had just made the most hilarious joke in the world. Not sure what’s going on there, but I’m nosy AF and I want to find out.

I don’t know why I go up there, lol. It’s so painfully obvious that I do not fit in or belong there. Plus it can get really weird in there sometimes. I don’t know why. Maybe it was something else before it became that bar and that’s why the vibe is so weird? I’ve noticed that’s A Thing here in HK. The “Old Hong Kong” might be long gone, but the energy still hangs around…

What I do know for sure is that I’m still trying to keep my distance from this group. They are interesting to observe from afar, but there’s still something there that prevents me from getting too close. I don’t know what it is. It’s probably the fact that I’m an artist/writer and they all work in Banking and Finance. It could also be the fact that I am the only American and therefore an outsider. It’s very obvious that I’m seen as more of a “Court Jester” type than anything else. Even I can’t take myself seriously when I’m in the room with them. I guess maybe I’m not used to taking myself seriously in general, so…

Maybe the reason I go there is because I know I’m an extreme outsider in this group. I don’t have to try to fit in because I know I never will. There is some level of freedom that comes with that. I’m not trying to get them to like me or accept me. I just want to be comfortable as myself, which I am learning how to do by standing in that room with them.

I suppose there is always the fear it could turn into another Bloody Mary’s and/or Bangkok situation. That’s part of the reason I don’t write too much about them. I watch them and listen in on their conversations, but I don’t “character-ify” them the way I’m doing with my neighbor right now. I guess now I’m starting to do that now since I’m getting to know them better. Still, I feel uneasy about writing too much about the people I meet in that place. There’s just something off about it for me. I can’t put my finger on it.

Meanwhile, the couple sitting at the bar is arguing with each other right now. Ugh. What a buzzkill. It’s mostly the guy yelling at the woman, telling her she is lazy and disrespectful and he’s tired of taking care of her. White guy/Asian lady, just in case you’re wondering.

I’m supposed to be finishing my story right now. I’m not working on it at all. I’m ready to just go back home and go to bed instead, lol.

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: Revenge is Mine

Posted on August 14, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Finance Bros, Hong Kong, Mid-Levels, Neighbor Guy, Secret Society, the Island of Lost Guys, The WolfLeave a comment

Friday night.

Here we are, sitting at the Secret Society, alone in the corner with a full view of the room (which is almost entirely men except for myself, the bartender, and two female patrons accompanying a much larger group of men. The only person I know here (other than the bartenders) is the guy from The Wolf who I do not like. I guess I’ll just sit here and wait and —

Literally, right as I was in the middle of that sentence, he got up and came over to me. He’s like, “Come sit with me at the bar!”

I’m so tired of men. I was just like, “Why would I do that?”

“So we can have a chat.”

“About what?”

“Anything you want.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Yes, but why does that matter? I’m asking you for a chat, not to come home with me.”

Oh, I don’t know, probably because the last time I agreed to sit at the bar and “chat” with you, you dragged me into the bathroom, offered me a line of cocaine, and then groped me in front of everyone at the bar. So, yeah, not exactly in a rush to hang out with you again.

“I’d rather sit here alone in the corner and write my book.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He looked at me sadly.

“Okay, I just want you to know you look really beautiful today.”

“Okay, thank you, have a nice day, namaste!”

So I sent him on his way back to the bar alone and continued on writing.

Thank you, Universe, for giving me this singular moment of redemption. I really needed this. I could finish this glass of wine right now and not get drunk at all and then head on down the hill back home and I would feel good about the decisions I made tonight. Boundaries!

Wow, I really needed to do that. I’m just so tired of men who think they can just walk all over me. Today, I stood up for myself. I am proud of that.

My life dynamic right now:

Me: I need to escape from my neighbor. I’m going out to the bar.

The Men at the Bar: We are worse than your neighbor!

Me: I need to escape from this bar and get back home to my neighbor.

Wait, no, none of these options are working for me. Maybe I should start thinking about moving again. No men allowed!

Hmm… wow… rejecting that man just now really did fill me with a sense of happiness and pride that is quite unfamiliar to me. Just think, I could walk over there and make a terrible decision right now. Instead, I am sitting here alone in the corner with my notebook and my wine and I’m perfectly happy to exist in this world without men.

Let’s drink to not making any terrible decisions with men today!

HASHTAG: GROWTH! HASHTAG: CHANGE!

Oh wait, oh no, he’s coming back again. I can tell this man is not used to hearing “No.” He really seems incapable of taking a hint.

“What are you doing after this?”

“I told you, I’m working on my book. That’s what I came here to do.”

“Here? Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m a writer and I came here to write a book. That’s what I do. Okay, have a good night. Have fun with your girlfriend. See you again soon.”

*stares at me longingly with what I can only assume is his attempt at a smoldering gaze*

Gross.

OMG, he thinks he’s so smooth. Ridiculous.

Bye Felicia!

Okay, now I have to decide if I should have one more for the road or pack it up and call this night a win. I literally don’t even have to do anything else right now. Don’t have to talk to anyone, don’t have to resolve any stories, don’t have to seek out any new stories, nothing. I can just go home right now and wake up tomorrow with a full-blown self-esteem boost from rejecting this guy. No hangover, no nothing.

Hmm… I don’t think I’ll go home quite yet, but I am done with this bar right now. It’s just a bunch of men, and I am definitely NOT in the mood to deal with a bunch of men. Especially a bunch of strange men I am completely unfamiliar with…

Well, that decides it. We did what we came here to do tonight. Mission accomplished.

The End.

BLOG: It’s Possible!

Posted on August 13, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Finance Bros, Hong Kong, Mid-Levels, Neighbor Guy, Secret Society, the Island of Lost Guys, WritingLeave a comment

Friday.

Rainy day. Woke up to the sound of thunder, dark skies, and an endless downpour. Welcome to Hong Kong.

Now I am sitting in bed in my coziest sweatpants, drinking coffee and writing. Perfect life right here. I am so very grateful for this moment.

Made lots of progress on the book this week. I mostly spent my time tweaking the outline. My biggest piece of feedback from my last two projects was “lack of structure” so this time I am starting with a very nice, neatly-polished outline, inspired by the legendary bamboo scaffolding here in Hong Kong.

So now I have the outline and a document full of three years’ worth of blog posts to squeeze into said outline. Right now it looks like Year 1 takes up one chapter, Year 2 takes up 2-3 chapters, and the rest of it is all Year 3. I’m starting with a goal of 300-350 pages, which is much more manageable than the 1600+ pages of Franken-Blog prose.

I spent some time researching local publishers as well. I have some very promising leads. I am finally starting to feel like this is a real thing. I’ve got a book manuscript draft, I’ve got leads on publishers, I’ve got an audience waiting in the wings, I have a marketing plan. I can totally do this! I can finally make my lifelong dream come true!

It was all worth it in the end!

*takes deep sigh of relief*

I’m so relieved, lol.

It’s like my fairy godmother just appeared in front of me and started singing “It’s Possible” from Cinderella. Happy. 🙂

Meanwhile, no updates on The Boy Next Door. I guess he’s just decided to disappear into the void. Alas. Clearly he is not looking for a side-gig as a Writer’s Muse. Too bad. But, to be fair, it doesn’t pay very much, so I can see his point of view.

In the end, I decided to take some of his advice after all. He is right about some of it, and he knows better than I do because he is local. It is not entirely a waste…

Otherwise, I went up to the Secret Society again on Wednesday evening. Drank far too much, as per usual. Somehow ended up hanging out with the Finance Bros. How? This, to me, is probably one the stranger things that I’ve encountered on my journey. I consider myself to be an artist and an entertainer. How did this happen?

I don’t know, probably because… when I look at them, I see a bunch of uptight old men. When they look at me, they see a young, beautiful woman who puts on her little show and makes them laugh. It’s not that deep.

I have resolved to wait at least another week before I return there. I’m trying not to go too often. Once a week is enough. I must direct my attention elsewhere to other potential social ventures.

I did find the names of some organizations I can join here that will be beneficial career-wise. As we all know, I don’t really have a career, so anything will help. I’m just a person who has tried a lot of jobs that weren’t right for them and wants to find something more in-line with their character.

I have no solution for that problem, as of now, but I do have the potential to get this book finished and published. I shall focus on that.

Off for now. Let’s see how productive this day can be…

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!