Tag: Hot Beef Stew

SCRIPT: Liz vs Hermes

Posted on Posted in ScriptsTagged , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

EXT: A Muay Thai Gym somewhere in Bangkok, Thailand. The sign above the door reads “Jace’s Place.” A Grab bike pulls up out front and an Irishman hops off. He adjusts his little messenger bag and smooths his back. He takes a deep breath as he walks through the door. His name is HERMES.

Inside he sees a woman with short, straight bleach blonde hair dressed in a red two-piece yoga set standing in the middle of the ring. She glares at him as she plants her hands on her hips and taps her foot impatiently. She is LIZ.

LIZ: You’re late.

HERMES: I just came from Chiang Mai. I didn’t realize you were waiting here for me, Betsey.

LIZ: Betsey isn’t here today. My name is Liz.

HERMES looks her over and laughs.

HERMES: What, do you have multiple personalities or something?

LIZ: That’s right.

HERMES: Are you the good one or the bad one?

LIZ: I’m the one you don’t want to fuck with.

HERMES laughs at her again.

HERMES: Or what?

LIZ: Or you end up in a story like this. I have a whole collection of them. I write them when I want to take my revenge.

HERMES: And what, exactly, are you taking revenge for today?

LIZ: You. All of you. You dragged me into a mess that I don’t want any part of. You think I am just some stupid, naive little girl, but what you don’t know is that I have a very serious anger problem and I am going to take it out on you today.

HERMES: Why me?

LIZ: Because you have the most punchable face.

HERMES: So what? You think I’m gonna get in that ring and fight you?

LIZ: You have no choice.

HERMES: And what does Uncle Jason think about you using his place for this?

LIZ: He’s indisposed at the moment.

Cut to shot of UNCLE JASON tied up in a broom closet with a sock stuffed into his mouth. The scene quickly cuts back to the ring, where a THAI GIRL brings over a set of boxing gloves and presents them to HERMES.

HERMES: I’m not going to fight you, Betsey. I told you, I don’t hit women.

LIZ: That’s not what I’ve heard. And stop calling me Betsey. MY name is Liz. We are not the same. Now put on the goddamn gloves and get in the goddamn ring.

HERMES: I’m not getting in the fucking ring!

LIZ: GET IN THE FUCKING RING!

HERMES: Or what?

Suddenly, the door bursts open and a much older Irishman with long, wild hair marches in with a taser. He points it right at HERMES. HERMES gasps at the sight of the only person he is legitimately afraid of.

TASEER: Get in the fucking ring, Hermes.

HERMES: What are you doing here?

TASER GUY: [shrugs] Bit of a slow day. Now get in the ring.

HERMES takes the gloves nervously and climbs up into the ring.

HERMES: How did you even meet this woman?

TASER GUY: At the same place she met all of you. The American Bar.

Cut to shot of the inside of the American Bar, where all the lads are gathered to watch the Greatest Show on Earth. LYDIA, the bartender, cues up the TVs to play the live CCTV feed from the gym. She takes out a giant bowl and starts passing it around the bar.

LYDIA: Gentlemen, place your bets!

OLD MAN SMILEY: I’ve got 50 baht on Hermes! That little cunt doesn’t stand a chance against him.

OKLAHOMA: I don’t know about that one, Smiley. She’s got a lotta rage. I’ll put 100 baht on Betsey.

UNCLE SEAMUS: Ooh, this is a tough one. They’re pretty evenly matched. What does my beautiful wife think about this?

AUNTIE EM: [jumps up and down with a big smile on her face] Betsey! Betsey! Betsey!

UNCLE SEAMUS: Whatever you say, sweetheart. 50 baht for each of us on Betsey, but only because I enjoy watching Hermes get punched in the face. Never gets old!

CHICAGO EAST: I’ll bet 100 baht on Hermes. Betsey is just a spoiled little Princess. He’ll take her out in one punch.

FINN: This is not possible. You always underestimate this woman, Chi. This is your greatest mistake. I’m putting 200 baht on her knocking him out with one punch.

NEW YORK YANKEE: 500 baht and a round of shots on Betsey. She’s no delicate little lady, Chi. I agree with Finn. She’s gonna knock him right the fuck out.

MR. POSH: 500 baht on Betsey. She’s been to my house. She’s ridden on camels. She knows the date of the Norman Invasion. She’s definitely gonna win this round!

THE MOOSE: I will also wager 500 baht on Betsey. She might be a lady, but she’s a real Irish country girl at heart. I fully believe she can hold her own in a fight. What do you think, Antony?

Everyone in the bar turns around and looks at MR. ANTONY (aka the Hot Beef Stew). He sits in silence for a moment as he thinks it over. He then pulls a crisp, clean 1000 baht note out of his wallet and throws it in the bowl.

MR. ANTONY: I choose Betsey. That riff-raff Hermes deserves exactly what’s coming to him. I do not appreciate the way he interfered in our affair. He caused a lot of problems for both of us.

CHICAGO EAST: I can’t believe you’re gonna bet 1000 baht on her after she called you a ‘dirty little slut’ on her blog!

MR. ANTONY: [shrugs with indifference] I deserved it.

THE MOOSE: I thought you didn’t read her blog, Chi.

CHICAGO EAST: I don’t! I mean… sometimes I do… I mean… doesn’t everyone?

MR. ANTONY: That reminds me, has anyone seen Jason today? I feel like he should be here.

The scene cuts back to the broom closet, where UNCLE JASON finally spits the sock out of his mouth.

UNCLE JASON: [screaming] I’m gonna KILL that little cunt! You hear me, Betsey Horton?! I’m gonna fucking kill you!

The door to the broom closet suddenly bursts open. The TASER GUY stands in the doorway, holding his taser menacingly.

TASER GUY: You will do no such thing, Jason. She’s under my protection now. You leave her be or I’ll zap your dumb ass.

UNCLE JASON: Ugh! Fine! Will you at least let me go so I can watch the fight? I’m betting 10,000 baht on Hermes right now.

TASER GUY: You’re making a big mistake, but okay. Ladies!

Two THAI GIRLS come into the broom closet and help UNCLE JASON off the floor. They untie him and escort him to a bench by the ring. The TASER GUY takes a seat next to him.

The camera pans over back to the ring and re-focuses on LIZ and HERMES. Another THAI GIRL climbs into the ring to act as the referee. LIZ takes a step back from the center, puts her hands in prayer, and bows to him in respect. HERMES rolls his eyes and holds up his gloves.

HERMES: I just want to warn you in advance. This is going to be over pretty fast.

LIZ: It sure is.

REFEREE: Round 1! Go!

The bell rings to signal the start of the match. LIZ raises her arms above her head and lifts one leg into Crane Pose. She steps back gracefully into Warrior II and motions with her hand for HERMES to come at her. He steps forward to take a swing right at her face. Much to his surprise, she dodges him fast. He loses his balance and stumbles forward. LIZ promptly knocks him down onto the floor with a roundhouse kick to the face. He lands on his back and stares up at her in awe as she looks down at him with disgust.

HERMES: How did you do that?

LIZ: I’m a fucking yoga teacher, you dumb fuck. That’s how.

LIZ proceeds to beat the ever-living shit out of HERMES, destroying his perfectly punchable face in record time. The crowd at the bar watch in silent awe, their jaws dropping to the floor one by one.

LIZ: DON’T. [punch] YOU. [punch] EVER. [punch] MESS WITH ME AGAIN. [punch] DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!

HERMES goes limp on the floor as she knocks him out with one last punch. The REFEREE pulls LIZ off the poor bastard and holds her arm up in the air.

REFEREE: The winner is Liz!

LIZ rips off her gloves and throws them down on the ground so hard they bounce out of the ring. She lets out a primal scream of pure rage like none of these men have ever heard in their lives. It’s kinda scary, but also kinda hot? She spits on HERMES as she stands over his limp body.

LIZ: Happy St. Patrick’s Day, motherfucker.

LIZ storms out of the ring and disappears somewhere off screen. TASER GUY roars with laughter as he looks over at UNCLE JASON. He is frozen in shock.

TASER GUY: I told you it was a bad bet to make.

UNCLE JASON: But… but… what… I don’t understand how this could have happened. You fixed it, didn’t you?

TASER GUY: I didn’t have to.

UNCLE JASON: Fuck!

Meanwhile, at the bar, everyone is sitting there in stunned silence. The camera takes a moment to focus on each individual expression as it pans across the bar. LYDIA calmly stands over the cash register, counting out the winnings. She puts all of the cash in an envelope and hands it over to MR. ANTONY. As per usual, she is all business.

OLD MAN SMILEY: Wow.

OKLAHOMA: I told you she has a lotta rage.

UNCLE SEAMUS: That’s my niece, everyone! That’s my long-lost Irish niece!

AUNTIE EM: [smiles proudly] My niece! My niece!

UNCLE SEAMUS: That’s right, honey. Family. Not a threat. Family.

AUNTIE EM: [nods] Family.

FINN: I told you not to underestimate her, Chi.

CHICAGO EAST: [stares at the ground with shame]

MR. POSH: That was fun! Let’s face it: That fucker Hermes has had it coming for YEARS! I don’t feel the least bit sorry for him. Sooner or later he was going to mess with the wrong person. I just didn’t think it would be… a girl.

THE MOOSE: [staring up at the TV with stars in his eyes] She’s not a girl. That’s a real woman right there. I think I’m in love with her.

MR. ANTONY: [pats THE MOOSE on the back in solidarity and chuckles] I know I am.

NEW YORK YANKEE: [gets out of his seat and rings the bell loudly] Lydia! A round of shots for the bar, please!

LYDIA already has the plate prepared. She passes out the shots and everyone holds theirs up high. Everyone except CHICAGO EAST, who is still staring at the floor in silence. Just as they are about the take the shot, the door opens and BETSEY walks in. She has long dark, curly hair and is wearing a black maxi dress. Everyone freezes and stares at her in shock.

BETSEY: What are you all staring at?

NEW YORK YANKEE: How did you get here so fast?

BETSEY: What are you talking about? You know I only live one block down the street. I’ve been in my apartment all afternoon. I was taking a nap.

CHICAGO EAST: But… but… but… that was you. It was you up there on the TV. It was you.

BETSEY: Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.

OLD MAN SMILEY: Whaddaya talkin’ about? You got multiple personalities or something?

BETSEY smirks at him knowingly and shrugs.

BETSEY: Maybe I do…

The Krewe looks at her with a mix of fear and awe as she walks up to CHICAGO EAST and picks up his shot glass.

BETSEY: I’ll take that. Slainte, fam!

UNCLE SEAMUS: SLAINTE!

Everyone takes the shot. BETSEY walks over to MR. ANTONY. He hands her the envelope of cash.

MR. ANTONY: Your winnings…

BETSEY: Thank you, darling. I’m sorry for all of this.

MR. ANTONY: I’m sorry too. I should have been honest with you.

BETSEY: Thank you. I would have gone with you anyway. I don’t have healthy boundaries around these sorts of things.

MR. ANTONY: Are we okay now?

BETSEY: Yes. I told you. I like you.

MR. ANTONY: Still?

BETSEY: Always. You’re one of my Muses now.

MR. ANTONY: Just like your Andrew.

BETSEY: Yes. Just like My Andrew. Except you are way, way, way hotter than he was! That’s why I call you my Hot Beef Stew.

MR. ANTONY: Grand.

BETSEY: Grand!

They exchange one last look before she turns to the crowd and waves goodbye.

BETSEY: See you later, everyone!

BETSEY walks out of the bar, clicks her heels together three times, and lands back in Hong Kong.

The End.

BLOG: Big Trouble in Little Bangkok

Posted on Posted in BlogTagged , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Monday. At the coffee shop.

The baristas all greet me by name when I come in now. Whoever said HongKongers were unfriendly clearly hasn’t been hanging out in the right places. The baristas know me, the bartenders know me, the owners of my favourite restaurants all know me, my corner 7-11 Krewe knows me. It’s really not that hard to be kind to the people you interact with every day.

How is my Cantonese coming along? Poorly, mostly because I am lazy. I know how to say hello, Happy New Year, and how to tell the difference between the 20 different versions of “ok” (which is actually extremely useful). I can also understand when someone curses at me on the metro for bumping into them. At the bare minimum, I should learn to say “Thank you” and “Have a nice day.”

So, it’s about as good as my Thai, lol. In Thai I can say hello, thank you, and have a nice day. I can also understand when someone is talking shit about me, which has been very useful given the circumstances I found myself in when I was there.

Sometimes I think about everything that happened in Bangkok and just sit there thinking, “Wow, what was that?” So random. Like, remember that time I was just sitting at the bar alone drowning in my sorrows and suddenly got roped into some crazy shit by a random Irish gangster from Belfast and now all these men in the expat community there hate/fear me because of my blog? Yeah.

What was that?

I don’t know, but it’s a way better story than whatever dumb story I was writing right before that. Way to get me out of my bubble! Woo!

I started watching the Irish TV show “Bodkin” on Netflix. It’s about an Irish journalist who teams up with two American podcasters to investigate a cold case in a small, rural Irish town. It’s entertaining. I will say it’s helping me understand the “Slow to trust” attitude of the Irish. Yet another reminder of how much I don’t actually know about my own people and culture. Sad.

It definitely explains some of the weirder encounters I’ve had, particularly with Uncle Jason. He is not Irish, he is English (and we don’t hold that against him!), but he is the one who hates/fears me the most. At first, I thought this was very strange. I literally never mentioned him in my writing until he screamed at me right to my face. I barely had any interaction with him at all. I was mostly hanging out with his niece, who I thought was pretty cool.

For the longest time, I thought he was just mad about the Hot Beef Stew thing, which was strange because… why the fuck do you care so much that your friend and I hooked up when we were drunk? This man is an adult. He can make his own choices, which he did. I chose not to rat him out for said choices, mostly because I don’t want to create any more problems for myself.

Then I finally got someone to tell me what Uncle Jason does for work in Thailand and what sort of people he is allegedly so well-connected with. At first I was like, “Well, so what? Who cares about that? Why does he think I would care about that?”

Then I told my brother and he’s like, “That sounds like the Thailand version of [insert famous British gangster movie here].”

That was when the realization finally came over me.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh…”

I just sat there for a moment in silence with my jaw on the floor and said, “Thank you for giving me the extra +1 I needed to solve this equation.”

Okay, that explains the Fear/Hate. Still, not very interested in whatever he’s got going on over there, to be honest. As we can all see, I am clearly too dickmatized by the memory of passionately kissing the Hot Beef Stew in the elevator to pay much attention to anything else going on around me. It wasn’t until I met the Taser Guy that I realized I had stepped into such a massive pile of shit.

I still think it’s hilarious that they told an old man from friggin’ Belfast who came into the bar zapping off a taser not to talk to ME. As if I’m the crazy, dangerous one in this equation! Wow! It’s an honor and a privilege to be recognized for my journalistic skillz that I didn’t even know I had.

Here I’ve been sitting in my apartment trying to write low-brow bullshit like a smutty romance novel and live my own version of Eat Pray Love and figure out how to monetize my stupid blog, and all these men all think I’m an undercover journalist on a mission to expose their shady activities in Thailand.

That is HILARIOUS!

The projection is strong with this one.

Honestly, well done. Well done, me. I guess now I really do have to become a journalist. Anyway, if I was them, I would stop treating me like an enemy and befriend me instead. Get me on your side so I won’t write about you. Treating me like a threat is only going to accomplish the following:

  1. Make me even more curious about what you’re doing than I already am.
  2. Make it less likely I’ll cover for you if something shady goes down.
  3. Make it completely impossible for me to look the other way and pretend I have no idea what’s going on, as I was doing before.

I don’t know. It’s probably all just some weird fraternity hazing ritual. It definitely feels like a test. Did I pass the test? I don’t know. I guess we will find out.

My one consolation prize for all of this: I might not get to attend the Emerald Ball, make a grand entrance, and have the epic Cinderella moment that I’ve always dreamed of, but I take comfort in the fact that I will be the talk of that event. Let’s wait and see how my blog stats look on St. Patrick’s Day, lolololol.

I genuinely do not know how I ended up in this situation at all. I can only think back to Saturday night when my friend and I were at the Pub to watch rugby and how I was clearly marked as “prey” by multiple predatory individuals with varying agendas.

I guess Hermès marked me as “prey” when I was sitting in the American Bar. Now here I am, dragged into this mess against my will, and this little shit still has me blocked on social media so he doesn’t have to answer for it. What a jerk. Now I understand why he is always getting punched in the face. Riff-raff indeed!

It’s funny to go back and read my previous posts from before the Hot Beef Stew. I was clearly only concerned with my endless naval-gazing, eating, drinking, and collecting hoes in different area codes. Then this guy comes out of the bar and pushes me against the wall and kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before and now all of a sudden I am subject to suspicion and increasingly negative, unwanted attention.

Ridiculous!

This is a lesson in what happens when you take a passive approach to life. I literally just sat there and waited for something interesting to happen. These are the results. Maybe next time, be more active and intentional in my approach to life.

I have no idea how to do this, of course. For most of my life, I was shut down and derailed and sabotaged. My parents actively discouraged me from doing anything I wanted to do. The answer was always, “No, you can’t do that.” Or “You would hate that!” If I did it anyway, they would find a way to threaten me or guilt-trip me or sabotage it completely. I learned to be passive in life because it didn’t matter what I wanted or how I felt. I was just there to be the scapegoat for everyone else to project all their bullshit onto.

Now I am out here in the world and I am free, and yet… I am still passively waiting for something interesting to happen to me. And interesting things do happen to me. I suppose I am just tired of ending up in unpleasant situations, surrounded by unpleasant people.

Even when I try to live my life with intention, it doesn’t seem to work out. I apply for jobs and hear nothing. If I do manage to get a job, I get bullied out fast. I try to volunteer or join clubs and get rejected. I go to Yoga Teacher Training courses and meet people who are just… mean and stupid and selfish. I try to better myself over and over and yet… nothing materializes. The only real skill I seem to have is pissing people off by writing down my thoughts and feelings. Good for me, I guess.

I am lost. But at least I’m lost in Hong Kong instead of South bumfucknowheresville Dakota. If nothing else in life, I can be grateful for the fact that I literally never have to go back there ever again. I never wanted to be there in the first place. At least I am finally free…

What will I do with my freedom today? Spend even more time sleeping? I feel like I’ve spent the last month doing nothing but sleeping. I suspect it’s my body’s reaction to no longer living in constant fight-or-flight mode. I am getting the rest I desperately need.

Still, I could be less lazy and go take a walk instead of wasting another day in bed. Some days I just get so overwhelmed by the state of the world and my lack of a real place in it.

What am I doing with my life?

I have no idea.

But at least I live in Hong Kong!

BLOG: Are We Dating the Same Guy?

Posted on Posted in BlogTagged , , , , , Leave a comment

Sunday. At the coffee shop. Watching people pass by, as per usual.

Went out with one of my girlfriends last night for a much-needed Girls Night Out. We went to a Thai place for dinner, then to a pub to watch the Six Nations. The pub was FULL of people. Much better atmosphere than my much-beloved little dive bar back in Bangkok. As they say, the more, the merrier.

The crowd was split evenly between actual French people and Scotland fans. Probably not actual Scots. Probably just people who wanted to see France lose. I was originally rooting for France, but then Scotland made its epic comeback and I suddenly remembered I also have some Scotch in my family tree. No loyalty, whatsoever. I just like to win.

I told my friend about how I had tracked down the Hot Beef Stew when I was in Bangkok. She asked me if I told his wife what happened. I said no, mostly because I have already been in the very unfortunate position of having to send someone’s dick pics back to his wife and it was MESSY. I don’t want to get involved again. I’m old and I’m tired and I don’t want to be involved in the drama.

She gave me a look and said, “You want to fuck him again, don’t you?”

I shrugged and said, “Yeahhhhh, but only so I can give him a good, hard spank on the ass for being bad and say, ‘I’m gonna fuck you like the dirty little slut you are.’”

She recognized it for the joke it was and started giggling. I tried to keep a straight face but I also started giggling. Soon enough we were cackling loud enough for everyone in the room to stare at us. I am still giggling as I write this right now. I am not nice.

Shortly after this, she caught sight of a familiar face from across the bar. She leaned in to me, pointed at him, and said, “I know that guy over there.”

“Oh, is it someone from work?”

“No, I don’t know him personally. I’ve just seen him on the Facebook group ‘Are We Dating the Same Guy?’ He shows up on there ALL THE TIME!”

We watched him as he hit on three different women in rapid succession, then caught sight of me across the bar and started making eyes at me.

“You should go talk to him,” she said.

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“So you can go on a date with him, write about it, and then post about him on the group.”

“That is diabolical.”

“It would be really funny though. I would read that.”

I just shook my head and laughed. I’m getting too old for this shit. I just want someone who is gonna bang me six times in a row and then take me to breakfast afterwards. I’m sick of all the liars and cheaters and whores. I have no energy left for them.

Sometime later, she pointed out an oddity at the other end of the bar: a throuple. How did we know it was a throuple? Oh, it was very obvious they were a throuple. It was an older guy and two older women. One of the women was more attractive than the other. We guessed the less attractive one was the one running the show by the way she was acting.

My friend said, “I don’t get it. She is so ugly. How is she picking up all these people?”

“Oh, she doesn’t need to be attractive. She has confidence. She knows what she is so she doesn’t need to put on a show or pretend to be something she’s not. She can just get down and dirty. Besides, that’s what they say about swingers. They’re never as attractive in real life as they are in your fantasy.”

“True.”

We watched as the ugly woman roped in a tall, handsome guy at the end of the bar. She flirted with him for awhile before he politely excused himself and left.

“Looks like he wasn’t into whatever she was offering him,” I said.

“Yeah, he seemed intimidated by her. She’s definitely the one wearing the strap-on in this scenario.”

“Oh yeah, one hundred percent.”

The more attractive one left to go to the bathroom and the couple cozied up. I watched as they started looking around the bar and playing a game of ‘Who would you fuck at the bar?’ Unfortunately for me, they pointed right at me. When I told my friend, she started laughing so hard she was practically crying.

“I’ve been chosen!” I said. “For what, we don’t know.”

Luckily, the attractive woman returned and the three of them all left together without approaching me. I don’t even know what I would say to them. I was mostly in a blind panic because I’m struggling to work on my boundaries and it would not have been a good situation for me had they approached.

As we all know, I will literally talk to anyone off the street, and I had soooooo many questions for them about how they conduct their relationship. However, I don’t want to be involved in whatever they’re doing. I just have questions, as any proper journalist would. But ultimately, people like this can be extremely manipulative towards vulnerable individuals with no boundaries (like myself), so it’s best to just stay away.

Not today, Satan!

After this, my friend got up to go to the bathroom and left me sitting alone at the bar. I was immediately approached by a Nigerian guy who asked me if I was alone. I said no, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. My friend came back and he still would not leave us alone. It was… exhausting.

I was grateful my friend was there to help me fight him off because, again, I have serious boundary issues. Had she not been there, I would have been roped right in. This is exactly why I do not go out to bars in Hong Kong alone. I learned my lesson the hard way in Bangkok.

He told us he’s just here for the weekend as a tourist. We looked at each other and rolled our eyes. We started trying to redirect him elsewhere and away from us.

“Oh,” I said politely, “We will not be much fun for you then. We live here full-time. We’re actually quite boring. We’re only here for the rugby games. You should go to LKF. There are lots of bars and clubs down there that stay open late. You’ll have more fun there. You can meet other tourists like yourself.”

Still, he persisted. Again, no means no, bro! Finally, we gave him directions and he went away. We decided to leave shortly after that in case he decided to come back and bother us again. At this point, the Italy-England match had started and the bar had pretty much emptied out anyway. We went our separate ways and I walked back home alone, which is actually quite safe to do here.

Now here I am, still giggling over the Hot Beef Stew for some strange reason I can’t figure out. I guess I just decided to turn the whole thing into a comedy instead of a tragedy. There’s something quite hilariously satisfying to me about calling him a slut on paper after he called me that directly to my face while actively cheating on his wife. Such a simple solution! I don’t know why it’s so funny. I think it’s just my way of coping with years of compound trauma caused by all the lying and cheating men I’ve been with.

Sad, I know.

Anyway, what shall I do today? Perhaps take a hike up the Peak? The weather is perfect for it. I need the exercise after spending most of the last week in bed. I wasn’t feeling well at all. I did, however, stop obsessively watching the war on TV, which is good. Again, boundaries.

Off we go now! May your nights be much less interesting than mine…

BLOG: My Latest Obsession

Posted on Posted in BlogTagged , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Friday afternoon.

Woke up late today because I stayed up late last night doing yoga on my rooftop under the full moon, as one does. It was not my best session. I haven’t done my Hatha routine in awhile so I am not in good shape! I need to start going to class again. I can’t live my life like this.

Had a long chat with my brother yesterday. He told me he doesn’t want me to travel anywhere until things calm down. I agree. I promised him I would stay in Hong Kong until my visa expires (unless I magically get a new one). It is my understanding that the airport here has become a nightmare because so many flights are being re-routed through the hub. I think most major international airports are a nightmare right now.

Once again, my plans to visit both Vietnam and India (again) have been derailed. Alas. I am clearly meant to be where I am right now, so I will be here where I am right now.

I was sad when I talked to him. I just wanted to get on a plane and go see him, but I can’t. Not right now. We just have to wait it out and see what happens.

In the meantime, I checked on my friends who got stuck in the UAE. One of them got on a flight back to their home country yesterday. The other is still stuck. I sent her some info on how to cross the border into Oman and get out through Muscat just in case.

Then I saw the news that Krusty Gnome had been fired and rejoiced on behalf of all dogs everywhere. Pretty sure Trump only replaced her with a Native American because his dementia-ridden brain saw that t-shirt they sell with the vintage photos of Natives reading “Department of Homeland Security.” But you know what? I’ll take it.

Otherwise, I spent my evening in bed eating pizza and watching Netflix. I finally got around to watching that documentary about Jimmy Savile. I didn’t care for the style. I don’t think it focused enough on the survivors and their stories. It also didn’t delve as deep into his crimes as it could have, nor did it look into his connections with the Royals (especially Prince Andrew). The vast majority was focused on the whole “But we thought he was such a good guy!” Narrative. Ugh, please. They’re always a good guy, until they’re not.

So over it.

I needed something more lighthearted after that so I started re-watching House of Guinness. I know it’s not meant to be a comedy, but it is. I already thought this show was completely ridiculous and absurd the first time around. It is even more ridiculous and absurd now that I have spent time around actual Irish people and started learning about Irish culture and history. Still, I find it hilarious, so I will continue my re-watch. I need to get myself hyped up for the Six Nations this weekend.

My friend and I are planning to go out tomorrow and watch the France-Scotland game. I know the Ireland game is on today but I still haven’t found a place to watch it because it’s on at like 3am here. I asked around but no one is showing it because of licensing issues. Disappointing AF.

Anyway, I am just happy to go out and have a proper girls night. I love my guy friends, but I get really fucking tired of being surrounded by men all the time. I might be “one of the lads,” as they say, but I am a woman, and I need to be around other women sometimes. Women understand things that men are literally incapable of understanding. Plus, it is WAY more fun to watch rugby with other women. I don’t have to pretend like I give a fuck about the rules of this sport or what is actually happening in the game. I can just admire the beauty of the male form.

Plus, I just want to stop fixating on the Hot Beef Stew. I’m so over the whole situation. I literally do not care anymore. He’s a liar and a cheater and a slut. That’s it. That’s The End! No more story to tell! I got to tell him to go fuck himself in a dream and that was resolution enough for me. I have bigger fish to fry.

My friend saw my joke posts about rugby and asked if I want to go with her to the Hong Kong Sevens in April. Uhhhh, yeahhhhhh! Obviously! I don’t even know what that is. Don’t know, don’t care. All I know is that there are gonna be hot sexy beefcakes in tight shorts running around a muddy field. Sign me up! I am all over it.

And here I thought being a sports reporter was the most boring job ever! Wrong! I should try to get that job. Why am I even wasting my time doing anything else? I could be interviewing these guys about their workout routines right now! And by interviewing, I mean watching them drag each other all over the field. So hot. Wow. How did this sport even get invented?

Okay, I gotta go home now. I am not feeling well today. I need to conserve my energy for tomorrow night. So ready. Soooo ready. Never been more ready for anything in my entire life.

Show me the grass stains!

BLOG: Not Today, Satan!

Posted on Posted in BlogTagged , , , Leave a comment

Thursday morning. Woke up at 6am but stayed in bed until 8:30am. Finally dragged myself out of bed and down to the coffee shop. The place next door is doing renovations so the street is very loud. Somehow I am blocking it out anyway.

I had another dream about the Hot Beef Stew. In the dream, he was telling me that he was upset with me about showing strangers his picture.

I shrugged and said exactly what he said to me as he was putting his shorts back on to go home to the wife he didn’t tell me he had: “Maybe you shouldn’t act like such a slut.”

He just looked down at the ground and nodded.

“I deserved that,” he said.

“Yeah, you did,” I replied. “I hope you learned your lesson about cheating on your wife. You’re lucky I haven’t tracked her down and told her myself. I could have done that very easily while I was in Bangkok. However, I decided to let you deal with it yourself. That’s your mess to clean up, not mine.”

He nodded at me but didn’t say anything. The dream ended and I woke up to another rainy day in Hong Kong.

I stepped out of my apartment this morning at the same time my neighbor was leaving the apartment I used to live in. He was VERY attractive. Tall, beefy, dark hair, soooo my type. He froze up when he saw me and just stared at me in that way men do when they see an attractive woman.

Then I noticed the wedding ring on his finger. In that moment, my attraction turned to pure disgust. I couldn’t help but think to myself, “Oh no, not this shit again.”

I said good morning to him politely, he said good morning back. Then I promptly walked right past him to take the stairs instead of the lift. Ain’t no way I’m getting into that tiny little elevator with a hot married man. Not today, Satan!

Now I am sitting here outside the cafe, watching people as they walk by. I take note of the clothing and the umbrellas they carry. I love Hong Kong street style. Everyone here is so put-together all the time. It’s the exact opposite of South Dakota, where people are actively hostile towards fashion. Bangkok doesn’t have much of a sense of style because everyone is so relaxed all the time. It’s very refreshing for me. I love fashion!

The main style for women here skews towards loose pants or long skirts. Some of the younger women wear mini skirts, but it’s more common to see them on tourists. The skirt I bought the other day is a mini skirt, but I’ve only been wearing it with leggings. It’s a pleated skirt that looks very school uniform-ish. It makes me look at least 10-15 years younger when I wear it. I already look way younger than my age (37) so wearing a pleated mini skirt makes me look like I’m on my way to school.

There used to be a rule on “What Not To Wear” that says “No mini skirts after the age of 35.” Now I understand why that’s a thing. I’ve decided to ignore the rule and wear the skirt anyway.

Yet another reason why I avoided the man in the elevator. He’s probably a creeper if he’s looking at me like that while I’m dressed like this. Probably bored with his marriage. Probably on a business trip so he thinks he can get away with it. Probably does this all the time.

Well, you can leave me the hell out of whatever your situation is, dude. If you want privacy and discretion, you can pay a sex worker for it. Leave me the fuck alone!

Ahhh… the sun has finally come out! Hello, beautiful sun! How I’ve missed you so! Let me bask in your warmth and feel the glow.

Not sure how to spend my day today. I should definitely take advantage of the weather to turn off my screen and go explore the Island. I love how they call it “The Island” as if there is only one island that makes up HK. It’s just one of those things that is funny to me.

On that note, I’m off. Have a nice day!

BLOG: Happy for a Night

Posted on Posted in BlogTagged , , , , Leave a comment

Wednesday night.

Currently sitting at the pizza joint. I haven’t seen the owner yet, but I’m sure I will later. As previously stated in several posts, this is one of my “spots” I check into at least once a week. I told them I was going to Bangkok for one week but was gone for a month. I’m sure they will be relieved to see I was not murdered by the so-called “IRA” after all.

Anyways…

Yesterday ended up getting better. I am still annoyed with The Publisher, but I always am these days. It’s hard to have a serious, professional conversation with a sloppy drunk. I always leave our conversations feel frustrated and sad.

Spent the rest of the day sitting in the Irish Pub watching rugby to soothe the existential pain of living in this timeline. It worked! Then I went and took a walk up and down the Avenue of Stars in Kowloon, which is right along the harbor. It has the best view of the Island skyline. Kinda touristy but whatever.

I made it back to the observation platform in time for the nightly laser show. Unfortunately, it was too foggy for it to be that impressive from a visual standpoint. The musical soundtrack, however, was on-point. I really enjoyed that aspect. It was just nice to take a break and sit without any thoughts for awhile.

I took the Star Ferry across the harbor back to the Island side just for funsies. It’s super cheap and super fun. Great way to avoid the claustrophobia of the metro, especially because Central Station can be a nightmare at certain times of day.

We landed at the Ferris wheel and I headed straight to the Escalator, which is close to where I live. It feels so good to finally be able to navigate Hong Kong Island with some confidence. I still remember when I first got here and kept getting lost everywhere I went. It’s a great feeling to be able to walk a straight line through one of these grandiose mall mazes and be like “I KNOW EXACTLY WHERE I AM GOING RIGHT NOW AND I AM GOING TO GET THERE FAST!”

Hashtag: Achievement Unlocked.

Took the Escalator straight to one of my regular spots to catch up with my favourite bartender. She was so happy to see me. I walked in and said, “Surprise!!!!” She ran out from behind the bar and gave me a hug. Then she hit me on the shoulder playfully and said, “You didn’t tell me you were leaving! We were worried about you! Finally I checked your Instagram and saw you were randomly in Thailand again. I was like ‘Ohhhh noooo what is she getting into over there this time?’ I’m so happy you’re back!”

I told her the follow-ups on the stories I’d been collecting there. She always smiles at me and says, “I’m so excited to read your book.” Then I told her I solved the mystery of the Hot Beef Stew. Her eyes lit up. “Show me.”

I dug through and showed her a picture. The other ladies on the floor all crowded around to see. They all agreed he was hot! Then I showed them a clip of him playing The Sport and they were *screaming.* All the girls were like, “OMG Becky, look at dat butt!”

I was like, “Yeah and he’s got that little streak of silver in his hair. Like not enough to look old but just enough to be Sexy Silver Fox status.”

At this, the other two men sitting at the bar lost it. They were both definitely in the 50-60 age range and Western AF. I’m sure it must have been a strange sight for them to see an American woman talking to “the help” as equals and friends, let alone giggling away as if we were all there for girls night.

I already knew one of the men from a previous meeting. The other had his earbuds in, but it was very clear he was eavesdropping by his reactions to everything I said. He finally revealed himself when I showed the girls the video clip. He just put his hands over his face and started laughing hysterically. When he looked back up again, his face was BRIGHT RED! He was in shambles, y’all! These men out here cannot handle being objectified by women the same way they objectify us. It’s actually hilarious.

I was happy to make them all laugh. My bartender friend even said, “Betsey, you need to do stand-up comedy! You are HILARIOUS!”

Or maybe just traumatized AF and this is my only way to cope, HA HA HA!

Sometime later, the place emptied out and I was left to ask the bartender the real question on my mind. I wanted to know what she knows about the “old man weirdos in Wan Chai.” I trust her judgment because she is Filipina. If anyone on this planet knows what a creeper is, it’s going to be her.

She took a moment to think about it, then said, “I used to work down there at a club. One night, my friend was working the VIP lounges serving drinks. She told me she walked in on a group of businessmen with an Indonesian sex worker and one of them was playing with her poop.”

Okay.

So.

Definitely not a place I need to be going around then, yeah? Yeah.

She said, “It gets worse.”

I said, “I know. Remember when I told you about the creepy old American guy that was dining out with two underage Russian girls who kept making jokes about him hosting their friend’s 15th birthday party? And he was loudly shouting to anyone who would listen, ‘What’s the FBI gonna do about it?! Come and get me?!’”

“Yes.”

We looked at each other and nodded in solidarity.

“I can’t wait for your book,” she said again. “You’re the only Westerner I’ve met who actually gets it.”

God help us all if that is the case.

I walked home alone in the rain under the cover of my new umbrella. Just for a moment, I felt happy. I don’t know why. I was happy they laughed at my jokes. I was happy they liked my writing. I was happy to spend the day watching rugby. I was happy to be in Hong Kong. I was happy I had met the Hot Beef Stew and to feel what I feel for him, even if it is not meant to be.

I was just singing, and laughing, and dancing in the rain!

[insert video clip of Betsey going full Gene Kelly in the Mid-Levels late at night]

Today I woke up so late. I couldn’t even get out of bed. I didn’t go to the coffee shop. I didn’t go anywhere. I slept all day long. I dreamed of the Hot Beef Stew, which was unexpected and strange. We were in my loft together. He was doing what My Andrew used to do at the beginning. He was fidgeting with his ring finger, which is always a dead giveaway. We kept doing what we were doing, then he got up to take a break. I watched him as he went outside and called his wife to tell her he would be home late.

I felt so sad in that moment. Just devastated. For both her and myself. I am so tired of being used, of being caught in the middle, of always having to settle for something part-time, only to be dumped and left with nothing yet again.

I woke up around sunset to sound of a cab driver laying on his car horn like there was no tomorrow. Seriously, it went on for three minutes, at least. Another driver honked in solidarity. Then I heard loud music blasting from multiple directions. It felt like the last dying gasps of a protest. It felt like this guy looked at his watch and said, “I’ve got three whole minutes before they get me. Let’s go.”

Game recognizes game. Mad respect.

I finally found the strength to get out of bed and get dressed. I walked up the endless staircases and through the winding maze. I sat down at my favourite table. I ordered my favourite pizza and wine. And then… I wrote the story, as I do every day, because I literally have no idea what else to do with this life.

If the world does end, I hope I get to experience true love before it goes. My only wish in this life is just to love and be loved in return. I hope it happens for me. I hope I can feel it once, just once, even if it’s right at the end when we are holding each other close while the sky falls down around us. And then 1000 years later, they dig up our skeletons and find us embraced. It’s all I hope for, all I dream of.

Someday, someday…

Yeah, you can tell I am an artiste. I have the most ridiculous notions about what love is. I know, I know. It’s stupid. It’s not real. But you know… this is the only version I know. My family doesn’t love me. They have never loved me. No man has ever loved me. I don’t know what love is. I can only imagine it. I can only write down what I think it is on the page.

It is what it is.

BLOG: Spread Dat Seed

Posted on Posted in BlogTagged , , , , Leave a comment

Tuesday.

Lunchtime at the Irish Pub. I started with a Bloody Mary to nurse me back to life after spending the last four days locked up in my tiny studio apartment watching the news. Why do I do this to myself? No idea. I think I must be some sort of masochist.

I woke up this morning and made the decision to leave my apartment for the entire day. I am not watching the news. Instead, I am watching rugby. I’m not sure who is playing because the team jerseys are all covered in ads for all the sponsors, which I personally think is weird and confusing. It’s like every match is Emirates Airways vs Gallagher Insurance but one side is calling themselves the Zebras and the other side is calling themselves the Brumbies, which is apparently a type of an Australian horse. A wild, unbroken horse than runs free round the Outback, apparently…

Okkkurrrr

And everyone says Americans are the capitalists…

It looks like they might be on an island somewhere. Maybe Fiji? Is that the name of the location or the name of the sponsor? Literally cannot tell.

Wherever they are, it’s muddy AF. All of these guys are just covered in it. As Paris Hilton would say, “That’s Hot!” Perfect distraction from everything else in the world.

My Instagram algorithm started feeding me footage of rugby players working out during practice and warming up before the games. Woah. Just… wowza. I’m just like… look at all of these beautiful men humping the grass like they’re trying to get it pregnant. It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase, “Spreading his seed.” I literally can’t even. Like they could just show me 90 minutes of only the pre-game workout sessions and I’d be fine with it.

All of the bartenders here agree with me. They are all women and they also love rugby. None of us have any idea what is actually happening in this game, of course. We’re just here for the hot beefcakes in tight shorts!

As I keep saying… in Bangkok I learned to be careful about who I mix my energy with. Well… mixing my energy with the Hot Beef Stew definitely did something very intense to me that didn’t happen with any of the others. We didn’t even fuck! We did other things, of course… with pleasant results. How do they say it in Bridgerton? Uhhh… I reached my pinnacle? And now that really intense Irish energy of his is trapped inside of me and the only way to soothe it is to watch hot beefcakes in tight shorts humping the grass. It is what it is.

Yeah, I really need to rope me one of these athletic types. I just fantasize about laying down on top of one of these guys while they do push-ups and I pretend to be bored and yawn because I know they can bench press the weight of two of me.

Anyway…

Prior to this, I took a little walk around Central in the rain. Walked into a random shop and bought a cheap skirt on sale because I was only wearing leggings and felt weird about it. I just put the skirt on over them. Now I look like I’m wearing a whole outfit. Super cute! I actually did feel a little better after that.

Now I am here at the Irish Pub. For whatever reason, they are not showing the Ireland game this weekend for the Six Nations. Why? I have no idea. Now I am scrambling to find a place to watch. I have three other possible locations I can check. One of them skews towards a younger crowd, one of them skews towards the older crowd, and one I’ve already been to that is mixed. I heard the one that attracts the older crowd is full of weirdos, which honestly makes me more curious about it. After what I witnessed in Bangkok, I can’t even imagine how a HongKonger defines an “old weirdo.” Now I need to know, lol.

The bartender here was happy to see me again. She said, “Welcome back! We haven’t seen you in awhile! Where have you been?” I told her I went to Thailand for a month. Now I’m back in action. She said, “We missed you. We like your jokes about the rugby.”

What can I say? I’m an aspiring comedian. Maybe. Or maybe my sense of humor is just a coping mechanism I use to tolerate the total and complete ridiculousness that is my life.

It reminded me that I need to go check in with my two other regular spots this week. I told one of them I was going to Bangkok for a week, and the other one I didn’t tell them I was leaving at all. So now I have to go check in so they know I didn’t just bail. I know the other place is probably wondering WTF happened to me because I know the entire staff there. I don’t like to ghost people like that when I’m traveling. If anything, it’s my way of checking in to let people know I’m still alive.

Otherwise, I’ve been feeling a little down since I came back. I know it’s mostly the weather. It’s cloudy and rainy. I don’t mind so much because I think Hong Kong is beautiful in the rain. It’s like how people say they like Paris better in the rain. There’s something about the rain that makes Hong Kong seem more romantic and less… busy, lol.

—-

Sooooo…. the Publisher just called. He was toasted, of course. He’s always toasted. We have not spoken in a few months. I get mad at him because he says he loves me (only when he is wasted, of course), but I know deep down he just wants what he can’t have. He doesn’t really love me. If he really loved me, he would pay all of my bills for the rest of my life.

I told him about my recent adventures. He said I sound healthy and happy. I’m sure I do. He said, “It’s amazing to see how much better you’re doing now that you’re gone. You’re so much happier. Even when things get tough, you take it in stride. You’re not angry or sad like you used to be.”

Truth.

Literally all it took for me was not having to live in SD. Wow, who knew?

He said “There’s magic in your voice right now.” It’s not me, bro. It’s the fairies.

We were on the phone for an hour. When I finally hung up, the bartender was like, “Who was that? You were on the phone for an hour.” I said that we have a complicated relationship and explained.

Anyway, it doesn’t matter. He was shitfaced as per usual. It literally doesn’t matter. We’ll see how much he remembers of the conversation in the morning.

I am bored with writing now. Back to rugby…

BLOG: Hope U Get Rich

Posted on Posted in BlogTagged , , , , , , Leave a comment

Saturday morning. At the coffee stand. I always miss this place the most when I am gone from here. I love my perfect little writing spot. I have yet to find one in HK.

As much as I wanted to run away from life, once again my decision to become a HongKonger came back to bite me in the ass. It was as if a metaphorical Grab driver came into the bar yesterday holding a red envelope just for me. When I opened it said, “We Own You. Time for you to come back! With Love, HKSAR.”

In reality this message came in the form of my friend, who I have been jokingly calling my “Chinese Minder” since he’s all up in my business. I told him I wanted to run off to Vietnam to do yoga on a beach for a month. He told me that I need to grow up and face the reality that I am unemployed on the other side of the planet, that the best career opportunities are in HK, and it would be really stupid to throw away my chance just to bankrupt myself doing nothing.

“I knew it,” he said. “You are too much under the influence of the Thai Expat Community. You can’t stay on vacation forever. You don’t want to. You’re not like them!”

I sat there for awhile with my discomfort and realized he was right. So I re-booked my old apartment in HK for the month of March and now I’m searching for a plane ticket. Apparently the hosts were renovating the place during February, which is why I couldn’t stay there. They were more than happy to put me back up again. It’s not ideal, but the price and the location cannot be beat. Something better will come along when the time is right…

My reward for going back and facing up to the challenge instead of running away is a Chinese New Year Party at the horse racing track. So obnoxiously bougie, I know. I love it. I can’t help myself!

Now we know why I need to get out of the guilded cage once in awhile to run around with all the riff-raff down by the docks. That alleyway scene from House of Guinness sure hits different now, lol! It may not have worked out with my Irish Guy in the long run, but I’ll always remember the night he made me howl like a wild, wild cat at the moon.

If you don’t get it, you don’t get it.

God help me if I ever see that man again. I will not be able to hold it together…

Anyway, enough Lifestyles of the Bang Lads and Degenerates. We must return to Hong Kong and be serious, stylish, and successful. Money in the bank. That’s all that matters right now. Money in the bank. Assuming I acquire said money, I can finally buy my own bar in 20 years and retire comfortably to watch my favourite reality TV show in peace. For now… money. It’s all about the money.

I keep telling myself this is just a strategy game. I’ve got the Wild Card. The rarest tile. The letter worth the most points. Boardwalk and Park Place on the Monopoly board. I just don’t know how to play my hand. At least, I haven’t figured it out yet. I’m just waiting for the right opportunity to come along so I can play it and take all the winnings home.

Gong Hei Fat Choi, indeed.

I hope I get rich…

BLOG: Hail Zulu!

Posted on Posted in BlogTagged , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Trash Wednesday. The party is over. Another year has come and gone. I could not have guessed this time last year that I would be spending Mardi Gras sitting at a farang dive bar in Bangkok, but here we are.

It was not so bad. I started with a grilled cheese and then drank very, very slowly. For awhile I got stuck talking to this weird American guy. Another crazy Californian. They truly are next level. He was starting to annoy me when my friend The Moose texted me and invited me to come to another pub. I was going to get up and leave when he and his other friend came in. I know the other friend but I don’t have a name for him. I was at his house with some friends a few weeks ago.

So they came in and rescued me from the crazy Californian guy, who continued hovering around and inserting himself into our conversation at random times. I, myself, was still trying to pretend that I’m not still secretly stewing over my Stew.

Had a couple of rounds of drinks, then the two of them exited. A different American friend from New York approached me. He asked me what happened on Saturday night with Uncle Jason. I said I had no memory of that. I was really drunk and watching rugby. He said “words were exchanged.” I was like, “Were those words, ‘fuck off, I’m watching rugby?’” Lol.

Shortly thereafter, Uncle Jason appeared, once again looking at me in bewilderment. I love knowing how much this guy hates me and trolling him this way. It’s hilarious to me. Sometimes when people mess with you, you just gotta mess with people right back.

Finally, Old Man Smiley appeared and took me aside. He said, “Betsey, listen to me. I’ve been trying to tell you in my own way. I’ve lived here a long time. There are people here who are very dangerous. You don’t want to be messing with them. Do you understand me?”

Yes, I finally understand you. I did not understand you before. Now I understand you. I understand exactly what you are getting at now. I’m learning the rules now. I didn’t know them before.

I went home after that. Found a New Orleans-style restaurant and ordered a spread. It was actually pretty good. The Jambalaya is more like a Thai fried rice style but the flavoring is on-point. Creole spice game strong. These people know NOLA.

Later, as I stood by the window overlooking the city, eating my rice with chop sticks, I wondered about my life again. I have no idea what I’m doing. Dead-end job. Dead-end career. Dead-end city. Dead-end book. Dead-end relationship. Dead-end everything.

What am I doing with my life?

I have no idea!!!

BLOG: Red Envelope Special

Posted on Posted in BlogTagged , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Tuesday. Lunar New Year. Mardi Gras! Happy holidays!

I am wearing a special outfit I got from India today. It is red and white gold. Very beautiful. Perfect for the New Year.

I did not think the coffee shop would be open today, but it is. I admit I was actually on my way to the American Bar for some good old fashioned Bangkok degenerate daydrinking, but I decided to stop here for my daily iced mocha and write first. We must catch up on yesterday’s events before we go out and collect more stories.

Yesterday was… interesting. I decided to go to the pot shop and day drink, which was a mistake because my friend called me around 7pm and asked me to meet him at the American Bar. I know better than to mix daytime and nighttime drinking in Thailand, but I ignored my better instincts and did it anyway. It ended with me getting sick and running home and forgetting to pay my tab, which is why I was on my way to said bar to fix the situation.

Anyway, before all of that happened, I went to meet my friend, who is Irish. I have mentioned him on here before. I call him The Moose because he is obsessed with his Canadian Girl who left him long ago. He always likes to talk about how much land he has back home in Ireland. I learned recently that this means he is flirting with me. This is how Irish men flirt, apparently. They constantly talk about how much land they have.

He is also friends with the Hot Beef Stew. I tried to ignore this fact so I could be at peace and just let the whole situation go, but he brought it up! I had to sit there and sip my drink to hide my excitement when he mentioned his name.

The Moose said, “Well, you know we were here a couple weeks back. He was asking on about you.”

Really? He was asking on about me? I must sit perfectly still and pretend I have not secretly been dying to hear this exact sentence for the last three months. Keep it together, Betsey. Just play it cool.

“Yeah, he wanted to know what kind of person I thought you were. I said I thought you were really cool. You’re just the kind of person people have to get to know first.”

“Oh, thank you. I thought you were going to say that I was crazy.”

“You’re not crazy, you’re just Irish. Very Irish. You don’t even know how Irish you are. I feel sorry for you because you don’t know anything about it at all. You don’t know your own people. You’ve never been to your homeland. You don’t know who you are at all. That’s very sad to me.”

“Right, yeah, I know all that, but what did he say about me?”

“He agreed with me.”

“Yes, well, he would, wouldn’t he? He got to know me quite well that evening. Got to hear the whole story and see the whole spectrum of emotion that comes with it. And then some. Ha ha.”

“We didn’t like what you were saying about us Irish guys though.”

“Oh, don’t be too upset about that. It’s not just Irish guys. Trust me. I’ve dated men from all over the world and all of them are the same. I think it’s just a problem with men in general.”

“I believe you.”

“Anyway, I’m not dating right now. I am looking for purpose, meaning, and fulfillment outside of a relationship. I am focusing on myself instead.”

And not-so-secretly obsessing over your friend, of course. Obviously.

“Are you going to go back to Hong Kong?”

“Well, I have to because I put my luggage into storage there, but I don’t think I will stay. It’s a money issue. I have no job or income or apartment. I have no purpose there. I have no purpose anywhere. I think I will just go bum around the beach for a month and then go take another Yoga Teacher Training course in India.”

“That makes sense. You hated Hong Kong. You wrote to me every day.”

“I didn’t hate it, I was just very lonely there. I wrote to a lot of people every day. I keep regular correspondence with quite a few of my friends. It’s not limited just to you. Don’t feel like you’re special in any way.”

“I don’t. We all know how much you like your conquests.”

“I don’t go out conquesting anymore. Your friend took all the fun out of it for me.”

Because he lied about being married, then shamed me for acting like a ‘slut,’ as if I was the one who was doing something wrong by being there.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No you’re not.”

“You’re right. I’m not.”

The conversation turned away from this subject and returned to all things Irish. The Hot Beef Stew did not come up again, even though I had a million questions and was dying to ask them all. I told myself I would not feed my own obsessive compulsion and refrained from saying anything at all. I just let my friend talk about his huge tracts of land back in Ireland and speculate how many millions they might be worth. Meanwhile, I stared off into space at the wall behind him, continuing to stew over the Stew.

At some point he had to leave. That was when I started feeling really sick and had to run home. Now I have to go in today and make sure my tab is paid. Hate it when that happens.

Still have no idea what I am doing with my life beyond that. It’s okay! I’ll figure it out! Somehow?

The only thing I’ve figured out is that I want a grilled cheese sandwich. Good thing I have to go pay my tab…

That is all for today. We shall see what else develops as the week continues on…