BLOG: The Haunted Island

Posted on September 27, 2026September 27, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Andrew, Hong Kong, Horse Guy, Lamma Island, Mad Dog, Neighbor Guy, Secret Society, South Dakota, Thailand, the Island of Lost GuysLeave a comment

Sunday.

Here we are, back at my preferred brunch spot.

The ladies at the table next to me are being annoying and difficult. You know, the type that look at the menu and say, “Is there anyway I can order the XYZ, but change literally all of the ingredients so it’s actually a completely different dish that you don’t even serve here?”

LOL, that one gets me every single time. Some people are so entitled.

This is why I can’t wait tables anymore. The anger issues are real…

The same person just asked to change tables because she’s “too cold.” Yeah, maybe it’s because you’re wearing a strapless, backless, high-cut leggy dress with no underwear on? Yes, I can see that. Everyone can see that.

Just asking questions!

So Ridiculous.

Some people’s children…

Blah blah blah, enough about that. We all know you’re here because you want to read about the Full Moon Party I went to on Lamma Island yesterday. As previously mentioned, I was invited by some friends I met at the Secret Society. This is not an adventure I would have otherwise been able to brave on my own.

As you may recall, my neighbor is a big fan of Lamma Island. Now I know why. It’s easy to see why he made it into his entire personality. It’s like the Thailand of Hong Kong. They even had Big Changs and elephant pants! Love it.

Obviously, I took the opportunity to stock up on incense. I forgot to buy a fan though, which is annoying because I really need one. I guess I’ll pick that up today. Memo to myself…

Hmm… sorry, got derailed for a minute there. I had to eat my avocado toast. Now, where was I? Ah yes, Lamma Island.

I wandered about for a bit trying to get some sense of where I was. It’s a small island, but it’s very jungly. Can’t say I loved walking around alone in said jungle alone at the end of the night when I was trying to find my way back to the ferry. It was quiet. Too quiet. Like, eerily, spookily, unsettling quiet. That’s never a good sign, as far as I’m concerned. The jungle should sound like a symphony at night.

Anyway, I tried to go to the chill, local restaurant that was recommended to me at the Secret Society, but it was too full. I used the opportunity to check out the place that was described to me as “very douchey.” It was a fancy restaurant right by the sea with a lovely view and extremely overpriced menu. I loved it, lol.

And as I sat there with my glass of French rosé and my mini hummus platter, looking around at all of the douchebags surrounding me, I couldn’t help but wonder… Am I a douchebag too?

Lol, I might be!

I received the answer to this question soon after, when I finally met up with my friend and we walked down to the beach together. There, she introduced me to everyone. They were all very hippie dippie. Very relaxed, very chill. Perhaps a little too chill. It was giving Bali yoga shala vibes, which, in my experience, is never a good thing.

As we all know, as a neurodivergent person, I am extremely uptight and weird all the time. I have exactly ZERO chill. I could definitely tell some of them were put off by my general aura. I thought to myself, “Yup, I’m definitely a douchebag. It’s okay! At least I’m self-aware!”

It was in this moment I realized exactly why I love the Secret Society. They’re a bunch of uptight douchebags who don’t know how to have fun, and so am I.

This was re-confirmed to me later in the evening, when the sun was setting and it was time to stop by the beach bar. I went to shower off and change. As I was standing in the dressing room, I heard the Canadian chick talking shit about me to her American friend. I just laughed to myself. Like I’ve never had this happen to me before, right?

I waited a minute and allowed the conversation to pass. Then I walked out with my head held high, made direct eye-contact with her, and smiled at her in a way that said, “You know I just heard all of that right?” without me actually having to say it.

Then I walked up to the bar and bought her a drink. She tried to refuse three times, but I insisted. I said, “I’m just being nice” and gave her the same sneaky little smile again. She did not look happy AT ALL! Mwa Hahahaha! I win.

I know. Impressive, right? It’s called a Power Move. Look it up.

We all sat down around the table and began chatting again. The American guy wanted to rant about the train system in the US, but I stopped him and said, “Hey, I would love to catch up with you sometime about American politics, but right now we are in mixed company and we need to respect the other members of the group.” That worked! Shut him right down.

That was when they subtly turned the topic of conversation to my neighbor. Oh yeah, they definitely knew him. They were subtle about it, but it was obvious to me what they were doing. He must have warned them I was coming, lol.

I’m speculating this because he left to go to 7/11 about five minutes before I left to catch the ferry so he could walk out of the elevator at the same time I was walking in. He also chose to make the same trip with the exact same timing when I came home. Pretty weird coincidence after two months of avoiding me at every opportunity possible. He knows what he’s doing. I know he can hear me through the wall.

Or perhaps it wasn’t him at all. It was me all along. I’m the one who asked early in the day if any of them knew him. Of course, no one knew him at all. Sure, Jan. He talks about it all the time, but no one on this tiny little island knows him at all? Yeah, I’ve seen this tactic deployed in HK before.

They all pretended not to know him until this conversation. I am not the one who brought it up. They took care of that for me, as I knew they would.

Hahaha, suddenly I understood why that Canadian chick had such a sharp stick up her ass. She was acting WEIRD! She was not subtle about it at all. In the back of my mind I wondered if they’d had a thing at some point.

Not gonna lie, I did judge him for that. Just a little bit. Really, bro? A Canadian? I have a whole Island of Lost Guys and even I’ve never fucked a Canadian. How do you even talk dirty to them in bed? What do you say? How does that conversation go?

“Oh baby, oh baby, show me how sweet that Maple Syrup tastes.”

“Oooh yaaaahhh, dontcha know it, eh?”

Yeah, no, can’t do it. Too close to South Dakota. Not for me!

I digress. Back to whatever I was talking about before.

I would not call this an in-depth conversation. I would say they wanted to ask me one question, and one question only. They wanted to know why he talks about moving over there all the time but hasn’t done it yet. I just shrugged and said, “I don’t know. Maybe there’s something keeping him where he is right now.”

They just look at me like, “What?”

That was when the guy sitting right across the table looked right at me and gave me this weird knowing look. I looked back at him and realized he looked really familiar. Like I knew him from somewhere, but I didn’t know where. Hmmm… strange, indeed.

And that was it!

I do have a theory about that now, upon further reflection.

To me, that place felt like a dead end. You go there, you settle down, you live your little paradise Island life, and you never leave again. It’s giving Land of the Lotus Eaters vibes, you know?

I thought about the night he flipped out on me on the rooftop and realized he wasn’t actually yelling at me. He was yelling at himself. I don’t think he really wants to settle into another dead end. I think he’s like me. He’s more interested in figuring out how to elevate himself.

I could be wrong, of course. We could just be projecting random bullshit onto each other through that paper-thin, cockroach-infested wall. Who even knows at this point?

The conversation moved along and they all went their own ways shortly thereafter. They invited me to some bar for the live music, but I wanted to go off on my own.

I chatted with the bartender for a bit before heading off. As I was leaving, I said to him, “Sorry, what did you say your name was again?”

“Andrew.”

Fuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkk!

Now THAT… THAT was too much for me. I promptly went back down to the beach and sat alone under the full moon, drinking my Big Chang and processing all of my thoughts. I did a Moon Salutation on the shore and let my spirit become one with the sea. Then I decided to catch the ferry back home.

This was the part when I got lost in the jungle. Not fun! Not for me! Like I said, it was too quiet for me. Freaked me out. It reminded me of South Dakota, and not in a good way. All I wanted in that moment was to get the fuck off that haunted island and get back home.

That was when the freakiest part happened: a little Indian boy on an orange bicycle that looked just like Mad Dog’s appeared. He motioned for me to follow him, so I did. He led me right back to the ferry before picking up speed and disappearing somewhere far ahead. He never came back down the pier, and I didn’t see him at the end of the dock by the ferry.

SPOOKY AF!

I’m so into that shit. I love it when I have weird spiritual encounters. I mean, I definitely don’t like them when they’re happening to me in the moment because it’s pretty much always weird and freaky, but it’s always fun to write about them later!

Finally made my way home, only for my neighbor to make another one of his dramatic appearances. I just gave him the side-eye as I passed him like, “Wow, what the fuck, bro?”

I was high on the adrenaline rush of getting lost and trying to find my way home, so I went to meet my new American friend at the bar he works at on Peel Street. He promised me a free beer if I came to their anniversary party, so I took him up on the offer as a show of solidarity with my fellow Americans in Hong Kong. You know, all five of us, lol.

Peel Street was popping, but it was way too messy and overstimulating for me. Can’t do it. Not for me. Especially after the general weirdness of yesterday. I took my free beer in a to-geaux cup and headed back home. At this point, I was much calmer. Mission Accomplished!

I stayed up for awhile writing jokes to calm myself down. It felt like it took FOREVER to bring my cortisol levels back down to normal. I finally went to sleep, but did not dream that I can recall, which was a relief after all of the crazy nightmares I had this week.

Today I woke up and everything went back to normal. I did a really intense yoga session on the rooftop, took a shower, did a soothing aloe face mask, then got dressed and came out for brunch. Now I’m writing and judging the fuck out of the weird characters currently sitting in this room.

Well, Mr. Next Door, did you learn a lesson today? Just because I’m obsessed with you doesn’t mean you’re the only character on the island. Don’t take it too personally. After all, I’m not convinced it’s really you I’m obsessed with. Honestly, I think it might just be the super comfy sweatpants I stole from you. We’re in a pretty serious relationship now. I wear them like, every single day, literally.

LOL!

Okay, I’m off to bum around the Secret Society now. Oh, look, my Aussie Horse Guy is here. Fun!

Have a nice day! I know mine will be…

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: 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: Monday Blues

Posted on July 12, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Bangkok, Hong Kong, Thailand, WritingLeave a comment

Monday.

I am back at the coffee shop after a two-week hiatus. I haven’t been feeling well, so I have been staying in my apartment in the mornings. It’s good to be back at the coffee shop. The Krewe that works here is super fun. Plus, the theme is cats, dogs, and other adorable animals. Pet-friendly! Love!

Yesterday was somewhat frustrating for me. I went out with another friend, which I found to be somewhat frustrating. A few months back, he helped me make a plan for my book. Now he acts like he doesn’t remember. He doesn’t check in on my progress at all. He just lectures me, just like everyone else. It’s starting to get really old.

I decided to be kind to myself this morning and give myself the gift of delicious iced coffee instead of getting mad about it. It’s frustrating, but I just have to get over it. People tend to be very tightly-wound here, if you take my meaning. A lot of workaholics and high-achievers. They can be very judgmental sometimes.

I think they are just measuring progress by the wrong metrics. For example, in this last year alone, I have run a blog and IG account, written a book, designed a new website, made a new business plan, prepped half a dozen screenplay treatments, completed a second yoga teacher training course, and traveled to 7 countries. That’s a lot!

So it’s just a matter of translating that into cash money, which is… much harder to do than I realized. Still, I’ve made it this far. There is no turning back now. The only way through is forward.

It’s a weird position to be in. When I was in Thailand, I felt quite comfortable doing absolutely nothing all day. Life moved at a slow pace. I had my little daily routine. Coffee stand in the morning to write, bar at night to collect stories. Eat, drink, smoke, have a bit o’ craic with the lads, and be merry. All that jazz.

But as time went on, it started to feel like the Land of the Lotus Eaters. It was like being trapped in a time warp. Every day started to feel the same. It was too much like South Dakota. I started losing my inspiration fast. I realized I couldn’t stay there and live like that forever. I had to come back here to Hong Kong and learn how to be a real, functioning adult person who has a professional career in a writing-adjacent field.

Unfortunately, as inspired as I was to climb straight to the top of The Peak, I’ve ended up plateauing instead. I can’t quite elevate myself the way I was hoping. I’m stuck at this same level, trapped in this same routine, endlessly overwhelmed as I struggle to figure out my next steps forward.

I think to myself, “What on earth did I get myself into?” Especially when my friends sit there across the table from me and judge me for being stuck in the position I’m in. It’s frustrating. I don’t want to be this person. I have a vision board.

Honestly it’s still sinking in for me that I even made it this far. 7 countries in a year? Seriously? And I lived in both Hong Kong and Bangkok? That’s insane. I never thought I would see the day. I guess you could say I’m still frozen in shock. I’m here but I can’t even really enjoy it because it’s such a shock to my system. I suppose that’s just what happens when you move abroad. You think it will be so glamorous and then you find out it’s not. It’s just regular everyday life, but everything is so much harder.

Anyway, I’m working on it. The goal is there. The plan is there. The vision is there. It’s just taking a bit more time to manifest than I thought. It’s fine. Everything will be fine. Focus on the vision but be open to new opportunities. You never know what will pop up.

I’ve decided this week is my “Week of No Regrets.” I will do something different every day that inspires me or pushes me out of my comfort zone. I feel like I’m missing out on certain aspects of Hong Kong because I’m always so deep in my feelings. I should just go be deep in my feelings at the beach on a random island instead. Change it up. Use my opportunity to my advantage instead of being depressed every day.

Be present in the moment, etc, etc.

I should go see a fortune teller or something. I just feel so lost right now.

BLOG: Just on My Way to Pick Up Some Sausage

Posted on July 11, 2026July 11, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Andrew, Bangkok, Hermès, Hong Kong, Irish Family, Merrick, Neighbor Guy, Thailand, the Island of Lost GuysLeave a comment

Saturday.

I am at the bottomless brunch. I am way too fucked up to be here without my sunglasses on. It’s a lot. The Beach Boys is playing on the radio. It’s a whole thing with my dead dad. I can’t even.

What did I do last night? Oh my goodness.

I sat in the bar waiting all night to catch some fish. Nothing interesting swam my way, so I decided to move along back down the hill. Went to the Cantina. Met some random American from Tennessee who was in town on business. Took him to the Honky Tonk place. Ditched him there. Went to the gay club. Danced my face off. I think maybe I brought some random guy in there with me and made him feel safe enough to part ways? It is what it is.

Came home at god even knows what time. I drank so many dranks. So many dranks. I am still drinking the dranks. It’s… bad, yeah. It’s really bad. Okay!

Went out to get McDonald’s and ran into my neighbor on the way. That was very unexpected. I was not planning to see him when I was drunk and on my way to get a sausage. I had a whole UFC White House Front Lawn Fight Night Special planned for him. It was supposed to be Uncle Sam vs The Schlong from Hong Kong! Like *puts on Space Jam voice* “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get ready to rumble!” And then the music plays.

Yeah, he’s into sports and fighting and shit, he’ll get it. He would laugh at this! British people LOVE fighting! It’s like, in all the old-timey shows. They even have a whole holiday dedicated to their love of fighting. Yeah, it’s called Boxing Day. Duh!

Anyway, I was very shocked to see him somewhere that was not the rooftop, especially at 4:30am. Why is he even awake? Is he watching soccer? Sorry, I mean football. Yeah, I say “football” now. I’m so cultured now that I’ve lived abroad for a year. *tosses hair back*

Yeah, it was very off-script. I was mad at him again. Excuse me, sir? I hired you to be a background extra in this picture. You’re supposed to fit in naturally with the scenery, not show up in places you’re not supposed to be and make a whole scene. It’s not about you, it’s about our leading actress Betsey Horton over here. She’s the star of this show, okay? So just stay in the background and don’t make a scene.

Bahahahaha. He would love this. He would eat this up and leave no crumbs! What can I say? I know actors pretty well thanks to my old friend Tom de La Salle. So moody, so changeable, so many personalities, so many potential ideas to project upon this blank slate of a perfect male form. It is what it is!

Much better than mooning over Andrew, honestly. Ugh, I just CANNOT with that man anymore. Never again. Two books is enough. We’re not coming back for a third.

You know who would love the entire concept of Hong Kong as a pirate colony? One of my many exes. His name rhymes with “He’s got a really big dick.” Some might call him Merrick. I call him a douchebag (and an asshole!). It is what it is.

Anyway, he would love Hong Kong as a pirate colony. He would say to me, “I am not surprised to hear you’re living in a place that requires you to hire a set of beefcakes to carry you up the hill.”

I would say, “I wouldn’t treat another human being that way. It’s against the Geneva Convention. I am a strong ally and advocate for human rights.”

He would say, “Stop kinkshaming me! What if some men are into carrying beautiful women up hill on luxurious chairs? What’s wrong with it if both parties are consenting and someone is getting paid fairly for their time?”

“Oh, ok. Come here and start your own luxury chair lift business. You can make a lot of money off of Western tourists looking for a real, authentic colonial experience. Next stop: Opium Den!”

Ha ha, very funny.

Like, why am I even lying to myself right now? We all know there is literally nothing in life I would love more than to have two professional male entertainers (who are being fairly compensated for their time) carry me up these ridiculous stairs in a fabulously luxury chair. Like maybe one of those old-timey Roman-style ones with a variety of cushions and the chiffon curtains to block out the sunlight?

It is what it is!!!!

Don’t lie to yourself, Betsey. Just be who you are deep down in your heart. It’s okay if that person enjoys watching sexy hot beefcakes dance on stage in the Magic Mike Live show. You know, or maybe like The Thunder From Down Under, coming soon to a sleazy casino in Macau!

It is what it is!

Omg, I thought I could do the bottomless deal, but I can’t. I need to go home and go to sleep right now. I cannot even. One drink is enough for me right now.

Hopefully I will not run into my neighbor, who has at least seven personalities that I have seen (so far). You gotta watch out for those actors. They will change their shit up on you every single time.

One minute you’re in a romcom having a silly meet-cute on the stairs, the next he’s a backstabbing villain in a spy thriller, then he’s in army cosplay with a big gun doing Muay Thai on a boat, then he’s out here looking like a candy cane modeling some striped jacket, and the next minute he’s yelling at me about all the weird, random judgments about my life that he feels qualified to make specifically because he’s British. Then he’s all quiet and weird and guarded. Then he’s hiding in his trailer being a Diva. Then he’s out at 4:30am picking up sausage from McDonald’s. Like, what is even happening with this character right now? Why does he always make me feel like I’m in a movie?

Ridiculous.

You don’t see me threatening to call his sister up and be like, “Is your brother always this fucking annoying?” I don’t have to do that because I know what it’s like to have a brother, and I love him more than anyone else in the world, but the answer is definitely 100% YES, brothers are always annoying. It is what it is.

I’m so ready to blow this taco stand. When can we get on the next flight to Thailand? I’m ready to bang cock in Bangkok! LOL!

That song literally gets better with age. It will never get old. It’s an amazing guide to living life abroad, lololol.

Yup, definitely way too fucked up to be out in public without sunglasses on. It is what it is.

My life is a comedy routine! Come laugh at this ridiculous clown show, please!

HA HA HA HA HA!

Just think, I live in Hong Kong and I’m not even out on a yacht committing financial fraud right now. You know it’s still Friday night in New York? We still have time to get one last shade trade in before market close!

Snort snort, oink oink.

Hahaha!

Just think, we could be doing crimes on a boat right now, but we’re not. We’re sitting in Central drinking shitty prosecco, which I definitely just accidentally spelled as “prosexxo” because “Sexual Healing” by Marvin Gaye came on the radio.

See, I told you the universe is calling me back to Thailand! I know it! I saw a vanity plate that said “HERMES” last night! It’s time to go live it up Irish Mafia Style, which apparently means taking shots of Fireball at some random expat dive bar in Thailand while the former owner shoots off a taser at the sky.

That’s a real, true story. I lived that. I did. I used to be so boring and live in bumfuck nowhere, South Dakota. Now I’m out running around with all the riff-raff down by the docks and living it up on rooftops in Asia and not even taking full advantage of the experience by doing crimes on a boat. What is that?

I’m not really the crime-committing type myself. I much prefer to watch other people commit crimes and then laugh them when they get caught because they are stupid. Is that a thing I can do? Is that a real job? Uh, yeah, I think it is, actually, yes. Does anyone know if the Wall Street Journal is hiring?

LOL!

Okay, there is a man out here with full on punk-style spiked hair, wearing all Adidas, taking pictures of random street corners in Hong Kong like it’s an interesting experience. Must be from the Mainland, lol!

Off we go. Ta ta!

BLOG: Men Aren’t Lonely Enough

Posted on July 10, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged American Bar, Bangkok, England, Finance Bros, Hermès, Hong Kong, Mid-Levels, Neighbor Guy, Secret Society, Thailand, the Island of Lost Guys, The Russian, The Sketchy Place, UKLeave a comment

Friday.

Here I am at the Secret Society. It’s just me and a room full of old men, as per usual. Nothing interesting to eavesdrop on so far. Mostly just World Cup chatter. Snoozefest!

How is the situation with my neighbor? Oh, well… just full of ups and downs, as per usual. Now that I know he has been monitoring me so closely these last few months, I decided to return that energy and put him under observation for the week.

As it turns out, he is very boring. All he does is work and go to the gym and sit on the rooftop smoking with his ear pods in while staring at his phone. Talk about living life on Zombie Mode. What are you even staring at on that phone, bro?

Last night, he left a single protein shake on the stairwell by the communal trash area. It was just like… the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. This man is not lonely enough! No wonder he’s invested so much time into judging me. I am way more exciting than he is.

Anyway, his new nickname is “The Double Double” since he’s so stacked. Hello, Beefcake! Honestly, didn’t really notice it before since he was hired to be a background extra on set, but now that I’ve seen him up close, I’m ready to offer him a leading role. He could definitely play the bad guy opposite my good guy Russian in my Spy Thriller. For sure.

Also, just to explain this joke to Americans: At McDonald’s in Hong Kong, they have a late-night “Double Double” deal, which is two double cheeseburgers stacked on top of each other, no bun in between. Just four stacked beef patties.

Hehehehehehe.

Yeah, I mean, he’s pretty annoying, to be honest, but honestly… think about this right now. How did I get so lucky as to move to Hong Kong, fuck up everything, get a second chance, and then move in right next door to a hot and sexy beefcake/actor?

Like, that’s not even real. I could make a whole movie out of that right now and none of it even has to be true. It just has to be marketable to single women between the ages of 30-45 who dream of leaving it all behind and moving to the other side of the world.

Grand!

We might even be able to push that age range up. After all, he’s the one who told me to “cruise the mom’s groups for gigs.” Maybe he’s never taken down a fully- grown mountain lion, but he has clearly wrestled a few cougars. I really feel like we could capture the magic of that dynamic if we market it to a slightly older audience.

You’re only as young as you feel, ladies! It is what it is.

So, you know, he can keep acting weird and giving me the silent treatment. I don’t need him to be real. I just need him to stand there and be hot so I can project whatever story I need/want at the time onto him. That’s literally what actors are for. Duh!

Anyway, he did unblock me, but he did not add me back. Then he tried to shoulder check me when I passed him on the rooftop last night, but I was carrying my yoga bag so I basically just used it to body check him right back. Then I called him a “mean person” and went to set up my mat in the garden to meditate.

He is a mean person. He’s so judgy. British people and their judgments. Ugh! I’m starting to understand why I actually secretly hated studying English Literature so much back in university. The English… grrr… yeah, wow, the more of them I meet, the more I understand why I’m eligible for DAR membership. We had the American Revolution for a reason. That shit is real AF.

I know, it’s a whole fantasy. They brainwash us, truly. They convince us we want a Mr. Darcy, a Mr. Rochester, a Dorian Gray. But here’s the problem: they’re always hiding something in their attics. You think he’s being mean and condescending because he likes you, but really he’s just a jerk who is hiding a secret ex-wife up in the attic. It is what it is.

It is what it is.

I know, this one claims to be different. He says, “I’m not English, I’m a Hong Konger.” Like… okay… so as a person whose family came to American on a boat way before the Revolution, I don’t even have the energy to unpack the multiple layers of colonial processes happening over there right now. All I can say is… that explains why you’re so comfortable sitting on your little rooftop looking down at everyone else. It is what it is, bro.

I’m calling him the Schlong from Hong Kong because he’s such a fucking ding dong. It’s not racist. He’s white. Also, I can tell by his whole vibe that he was totally stoked to watch the White House Lawn UFC Fight with his bros at the latest stag do in Thailand. As we all know, no one is more oppressed in the modern day world than the white man. That’s what all of this is really about!

He’s just jealous of my freedom. It is what it is.

Anyway, this is lame AF.

Everyone is outside socializing while I sit here and write and watch. It is what it is. I have made peace with it.

Also, I just realized I desperately need to replace the blue light glasses I lost two weeks ago. It’s becoming a real problem. I definitely remember why I bought them in the first place. The radiation is just… too much.

Okay, okay, they’re talking about Hedge Funds now. Finally, something juicy. Why else even live in Hong Kong if not to eavesdrop on Finance Bros openly bragging about how efficiently they are running their crime schemes from a luxury yacht?

Oh, now it’s back the World Cup. So boring. Ugh.

Ugh, my brain already feels like it’s melting. Casually hanging out in a room full of wealthy men on a drug-fueled power trip is not for the faint of heart. Trust me.

Oh lord, here come more of them.

Funny.

Something, something, AI… something, something, evening the playing field in third world war-torn countries, something something, I look like I’m trying to listen way too hard and I’m definitely giving myself away right now by doing so.

Honestly, I really think people underestimate how hard it is to actually be a good spy. This is a real skillset. It’s so much more than just picking up James Bond at a bar and listening to him spill all of his international secrets while talking in his sleep. Who knew?

Omg, I could be narrating a nature documentary right now.

*puts on fancy posh British accent*

“Here we have an elder finance bro, a real British lad who has been occupying the island of Hong Kong since ye olde colonial days. Now we see him passing down his ancient wisdom to newest crop of finance bros, armed with nothing but AI and a sense of entitlement. See how he spreads his knowledge to ensure the continuation of the species…”

LMFAO!!!

I am actually hilarious. Tortured genius? Yes, definitely. Rising star with so much to offer the world? Also yes. Bored AF and ready to go to bed? Girl, yasss, am I fucking ever!!!

Now I understand why it’s so hard for me to get married. Whoever does it better be ready to sign up for a whole “Mr. and Mrs. Smith” type of situation. Domestic violence on an airplane involving the children not included, of course. That was actually crazy.

I’m actually getting bored right now. I miss Bangkok, tbh. Vibes.

Speaking of Bangkok, I passed a vanity plate on the way up here that said, “Hermes.” Something tells me Bangkok is thinking of me too, lol…

Okay, time to go. I’m bored AF and it’s still way early. So lame. Literally snoozefest. It is what it is. The End.

BLOG: Black Narcissus

Posted on June 30, 2026June 30, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Bangkok, Hong Kong, India, Meta, Native Americans, Neighbor Guy, South Dakota, Thailand, The Russian, yogaLeave a comment

Taco Tuesday.

I am not in a good writing habit lately. My routine has been messed up since I got back from Macau. I haven’t been going to the coffee shop at all. Instead I’ve been spending the morning doing yoga and meditating on the rooftop with a side of instant coffee. So not bad, just not writing.

I decided to shut down my Facebook again. Why? Because I hate it. Also, I happen to be in possession of a video taken of myself in Bangkok without my knowledge or consent by some jerk wearing Meta Glasses. We were just at dinner at some random place with another friend, but it doesn’t matter. It’s still creepy, weird, and gross. Also, I know for a fact that guy was out filming other situations that night that he should not have been filming. The people he was filming definitely were not aware of what he was doing at all.

Fuck that gross, creepy shit. I’m just so over it. I’ve never liked Facebook anyway. It’s just causes problems I don’t need in my life anymore. So, we are done now. IG and WhatsApp are much harder to let go of, of course, but neither are Facebook, which is what I really care about.

Otherwise, I had a much better day today than I’ve been having all weekend. I meditated for a really long time this morning and gave my mat a nice scrub down. Then I just sort of sat in my apartment calmly and quietly for awhile.

For some reason I had the random urge to watch an old movie called Black Narcissus. No idea where the fuck this came from. In case you don’t know, it’s a movie about a group of nuns who attempt to set up a convent in the Himalayan Mountains. It was all filmed in Pinewood Studios, which is in England. No one ever set foot in India for this movie. Yet somehow… so beautiful. The cinematography is just stunning!

The movie was pretty entertaining. As someone who has been to India, it was fun to watch them all slowly melt down in real time. Like, girl, been there! LOL!

My favourite was the nun who was so inspired by the views she forgot to plant the vegetable garden and planted a bunch of beautiful flowers instead. I was like, “Welcome to the Yoga Lifestyle.”

My second favourite was the Guru sitting on the mountaintop. Love that for him! What a sage! I would offer him a wreath of flowers, for sure.

Also loved the British dude who went Native and spent the whole movie wandering around in shorts and a scarecrow cap. The funny part was that I saw some random meme on Instagram the other day about advertisements for “Military Shorts.” I was like… wtf? Then I watched this movie and I was like, “Oh.”

Cool story, bro! Can you tell it again? Do you have time?

So I sat on that one for awhile, then decided to see if there was anything on the news besides Dump TV. Much to my surprise, Al Jazeera English was running a special feature on Native Americans going up against ICE in Minnesota.

It was grand until all of sudden we’re back on Pine Ridge, right at Wounded Knee. At least we were in the better part of South Dakota, but still… I was caught off-guard because I was trying to avoid letting my mind wander back there today. And yet… there I was… standing right back at the mass grave, right where I started this journey from.

Trauma-bonded for life.

So right as the shot of Wounded Knee came up, I felt something crawling up my arm. No idea what it was, but it was an insect of some sort and it was in bed with me. Freaked out, of course. Caught it and took it outside. Yelled at it to stay out of my safe space and went back downstairs.

I had just started shaking out the sheets when I looked out the window and realized a downpour had just started. Both my (almost) dry yoga mat and sandals were out on the rooftop. I ran upstairs to rescue both, but the damage was done. The mat is now drying on the stairwell banister, but I’m not convinced it will be dry in time for me to do yoga tomorrow.

I’m not sure it matters. As far as I know, I’m supposed to go to a Junk Boat Party for July 1, which is a holiday here. We’ll see if that comes to fruition. I’ve had no luck with the boat party thing yet, mostly because I’m afraid of boats. It is what it is.

A little bit later, I decided to start watching some Spanish documentary about an escort service in Mexico where a bunch of sex workers were murdered. I got about 20 minutes in and it was too triggering for me. I got really upset when I was listening to them describe meeting clients in hotels. I was like, “This is EXACTLY what the Russian needs! He should have arranged this service for himself in advance. That’s what it’s there for. What gives this man the right to wander around Central and choose some random woman to carry out of the bar to service him for free? Furthermore, how dare he say he doesn’t consent to be written about? Like, bro, I didn’t consent to being used as a free escort service. Fuck you. Next time, be more careful about who you choose so you don’t get a starring role in the sequel to Promising Young Woman.”

Raging.

So yeah, I paused the doc, turned off the TV, changed my clothes, and came out alone for Taco Tuesday. Tonight is just for me. No bros of any kind. No Passport Bros, No Finance Bros, No Influencer Bros, No Diginal Nomad Bros, No Boss Bros, No Neighbor Bros, No Sports Bros, No Bros of Any Kind!

No men allowed in this space tonight.

I had a brief moment of clarity in which I realized my body has actually endured a great deal of trauma this year, in addition to the trauma it has already taken. No wonder I feel so terrible all the time. This year has been a lot! But hey, you know what? I did what I came here to do. As the Publisher said, “You didn’t go there for some stupid job. You went there to write a book. And guess what? You did it. No matter what happens now, you did it.”

It’s true. I did it. And that’s why I’m secretly beefing with my neighbor now. I’m about to drink his ass under the table this weekend. He doesn’t even see it coming! He’s British AF. Does he even drink Kentucky Bourbon, bro? I highly doubt it. He ain’t ready for this jelly!

I’m obviously still mad about Saturday night. Like… Take off the metaphorical Muay Thai gloves and fight me like a real man, bro! You can’t just be like, “All you do is drink all day and make out with random men in elevators!” That’s literally not even true! I’ll have you know, I haven’t made out with anyone in an elevator since The Russian. I did make out with anyone Irishman under a tree, but we were both shitfaced and had a conversation about it later, so it basically doesn’t even count.

Also, you are just mad that you are not in that elevator with me. You’re even madder because you’ve seen me go out of my way to avoid getting into that elevator at the same time as you! You know why! Stop lying to yourself! You know what this is really about!

All of my girl friends are like, “What’s wrong with this guy? Why does he care so much?” Literally no idea. It’s a very small space. Those walls are paper thin. It is what it is. And whatever it is will be resolved at the 4th of July Party this weekend. Come what may!

Well, I am off now. I am going to eat a very large burrito bowl and plan my holiday tomorrow. Have a good one!

BLOG: And The Balls Win Again

Posted on June 16, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged Asia, Bali, Bangkok, Dubai, Hong Kong, India, Mid-Levels, SEA, South Dakota, Thailand, The Sketchy Place, WritingLeave a comment

Tuesday evening.

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

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

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

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

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

It is what it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wild.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is what it is…

BLOG: Members Only Club

Posted on June 12, 2026 Posted in BlogTagged FCC, Hong Kong, India, Mid-Levels, Neighbor Guy, Secret Society, Thailand, The Sketchy PlaceLeave a comment

Saturday.

I am at the brunch spot again. I don’t know why I’m here. There’s construction across the way and it’s really, really loud. I guess I am here because they do a good Bloody Mary. It’s not quite right but it is what it is.

Last night I decided to return to The Sketchy Place. I don’t know why. I felt something summon me there, so I decided to solve the mystery of this place.

As it turns out, this was a good plan. They remembered me, and I actually remembered most of them quite well. As it turns out, this is not just a neighborhood bar. This is a private expat club, which they invited me to join. They gave me a card with a QR code on it. The link took me to a membership form, which I filled out. Now I am a member of this secret expat club in Hong Kong. I get to use the Clubhouse. I don’t know what that means, but it sounds cool.

Welcome to “networking.” I don’t have to like these people. I just have to hang out in the same rooms as they do. This is how I get a job, and maybe even an invitation to lunch at the Foreign Correspondents Club, which is insanely expensive to join, by the way. It’s basically only for rich people. I’ve already tried to attend a conference there and they rejected me. I’m not getting in there without an invitation from someone who knows someone. It is what it is.

The person who gave me the card said they had lunch at the FCC the other day. So jealous. Y’all need to look this place up. It’s insane. They brand themselves as “probably the most famous press club in the world.” Oh, the irony of it all.

This feels like a message from my dad. He used to take me to lunch and events at the National Press Club in DC all the time. I can just hear him saying, “You have to join the FCC! You can go eat lunch at the clubhouse!”

Membership is much, much cheaper in Thailand. I should have joined when I was there. Ugh.

I haven’t thought about those days in a long time. I remember now. Georgetown. K-Street. Federal Triangle. Walks up and down the Mall. Weekends at the Smithsonian. Watching the fireworks from the rooftop of the Kennedy Center on the 4th of July. What a time to be alive.

I didn’t appreciate it as much as I should have. I long to have the luxuries of those days again. I have no choice but to sell my soul for them. So here I am, selling my soul to join the secret expat club, all so I can live in a gigantic luxury apartment in the Mid-Levels and never have to shower over a toilet ever again.

I’m disappointed in how shallow I turned out to be. But, you know, once you’ve lived in a rustic yoga shala in a tiny little beach town in India and showered with a bucket, certain lifestyle choices become more essential than others.

I swear to god, if I ever get married, it will only be for money. I really am that shallow. I am. It is what it is. I’ll get a pre-nup. It’s fine.

Okay, from now on I must monitor my alcohol intake very carefully when I am there. Last night was alright. I remember the vast majority of it. Walking home is kind of a blur. Apparently my neighbor invited me out but I was already too drunk to take him up on the offer. That’s too bad. I really want to go to his friend’s bar with him, which is where he was.

It’s the wine. I can’t drink the fucking wine. No more wine.

In addition to the invitation to join this private club, I also received an invitation to join a team for “Quiz Night,” which is what they call Trivia here. How exciting. I guess the hazing ritual is over now and I’ve been deemed “cool enough” to party with the rich people.

Next stop: yacht party!

Hell yeah!

Yes, for reference, this is the place where I was having weird issues before. Looks like I was right; there is definitely something weird going on up there. As it turns out, it was some kind of initiation ritual into some private members-only club. Fun! I could not make this shit up if I tried.

I’m not really the Eyes Wide Shut type myself, but I heard the food is pretty good at those parties. At least it will give me something to write about. I’ll just be there in my mask and robe, off chillin to the side somewhere, snacking from a small plate of cocktail shrimp and deviled eggs, watching the madness unfold before me from a distance, thinking about how I’m going to write about it on my blog tomorrow.

I can already picture this in my mind. Ridiculous.

This random chick just walked by with a cat in her bag. I love Asia, lol.

I know what you’re thinking: “Betsey, what happened to the pilot guy from last week who gave you his McDonald’s bag?”

Well, he got on a plane and flew away, as I knew he would. Haven’t seen or heard from him since. This is why I didn’t bang him. I just can’t go through that again. I gotta marry some bored rich guy with a gigantic apartment in the Mid-Levels. It is what it is.

I definitely feel like I just sold my soul. It’s fine. It’s the only way to get ahead in this world. That’s why I came to Hong Kong!

It is what it is…