BLOG: Stories from SEA

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

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

I should have just gone to Africa.

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

No regrets. Only adventures and misadventures of all kinds.

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

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

New stories! Always new stories!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grand! Just grand!

Nope, wouldn’t trade this for the world!

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

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

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

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

Okay, okay, let’s get to WERK.

BLOG: RIP My Hot Beef Stew

Sunday.

I am functioning with exactly one brain cell today, so bear with me as we try to get through this post.

Okay. Um. Right. What are words? We don’t know.

This is why I don’t drink Guinness. I drank exactly one glass of it last night and now I don’t remember who I am. Jaysus. I’m sure that all of the other drinks I had before and after have nothing to do with this at all.

I went out with my friend last night for the Six Nations Ireland-Scotland game. We decided to go to a different bar than last week. The bar we went to last week was all business people who like rugby. The bar we went to last night was full of lads who actually play a game close to rugby, more commonly known as Gaelic Football. If you don’t know what that is, rest assured that neither do I. It’s an Irish thing. I’ve never even seen this shit before in my entire life. I didn’t even know it existed until about a month ago. Believe me when I say…

So many GAA lads. The bar was full of GAA lads.

Oh my god.

Oh my god!

So there I was, enjoying the scenery, and then I saw a very familiar face. A little too familiar.

This guy looked like a miniature version of the Hot Beef Stew. He was much smaller in stature, but still pretty beefy, and his hair was not as curly. I could not stop staring at him in spite of my best efforts. There was just something so familiar about him. Not just the fact that he reminded me of the Hot Beef Stew. Something else. I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

It wasn’t until after I drank the pint of Guinness that a horrifying realization came over me: this guy looks almost exactly like my cousin on my dad’s side. You know, my Irish side…

Then I sat there in horror for about five minutes like, “Did I hook up with a guy who looks like my cousin?!”

A little voice (no doubt belonging to that goddamn Loch Ness Monster) popped into my head and said, “Ayyyy, lassie, yer a real Guinness Mistress now!”

What in the fuck?!

Worst St. Patrick’s Day gift ever!

No more Guinness for me. It is a mysterious drink with magical powers I don’t understand. That happens once, it doesn’t happen again.

And that’s the story of how my obsession with my Hot Beef Stew died on the floor right in front of me at the Six Nations tournament. He drowned in a vat of Guinness on St. Patrick’s Day, surrounded by all the lads from the GAA. He would have wanted it this way, I know it.

The End.

Somehow I can’t escape the feeling that this is somehow the most Irish thing ever. It is a small island, after all…

Meanwhile, my friend who I was with was laughing so hard, she was crying. She was like, “You are so fucking FUNNY! You should do stand-up comedy!”

“That’s actually my secret dream. I want to be a stand-up comedian and create my own Netflix show. I know that sounds crazy, but…”

My friend looked at me like I had three heads.

“That’s not crazy at all! You could do it! That’s how a lot of people start out. They do stand-up comedy, then become writers, and then eventually they get their own show. You could do it! I would watch it!”

“Really?”

“Of course!”

She then gave me the name of a place here in HK that has an open mic night for stand-up comedy. I think I might actually go and try it out. I just have to write a script first…

After the game, we went over to a gay club around the corner. They were having a drag show. The show was… messy. She tried to do some weird stage game and it just didn’t land. I got up on stage because she asked for volunteers and played along anyway, just for fun. I realized in that moment how much I love to be on stage in front of an audience. I felt so happy in that moment.

When I got down and went back to my friend, she said, “You could have put on a way better show than that.”

I agree. I’ve been to many drag shows in my life. That was by far the weakest performance I’ve ever seen. She had everything going for her, but the routine just didn’t land. Better luck next time!

We danced for a bit, met a bunch of new people, and then went our separate ways. I had to walk home through LKF, which is a huge party spot in Hong Kong. I stopped at a random 7-11 to get a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of water. I sat down on the curb outside to smoke and was immediately swarmed by 20-something athletes from a variety of sports, all of whom wanted to bang me.

Choices: I have them!

Whoever said women expire at age 30 is clearly delusional and deranged, lol. I feel more like a bottle of expensive, fine wine. I just get better with age!

That reminds me: I watched Louis Theroux’s Inside the Manosphere documentary the other day. I haven’t laughed that hard in a loooooong time. These guys are so fucking sad and pathetic. I haven’t seen that much loser energy concentrated in one place since the last time I was in Bangkok.

Rumor has it that Andrew Tate is in Hong Kong right now. I cannot believe immigration let him in. Unbelievable. The CCP must be keeping tabs on him, just waiting for him to fuck up so they can detain him forever. That’s the only rational explanation I have. I literally cannot even.

Well, that’s about all I’ve got to say today, other than I have the most hilarious Instagram post planned for St. Patrick’s Day. True comedy at its finest right there. Let’s just say… there is going to be a mushroom cloud over Bangkok when all the lads from the American Bar see it. Uncle Jason is going to have a full-on nuclear meltdown. It’s going to be HILARIOUS!!!!

LOL!

I am such a little troll. I can’t help myself. I love watching people’s faces melt off! I just can’t resist messing with them the way they messed with me. It’s the only way to get any respect around here.

Have a fantastic day!