Tag: the Island of Lost Guys

BLOG: Shoebox Syndrome

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Sunday morning.

Back at the coffee shop writing. I came yesterday and today. They were happy to see me again. I have not been coming here in favor of quiet mornings with yoga and instant coffee. I’ve learned the hard way that yes, it actually is important to have my daily coffee shop routine. It sets me up for success by forcing me to sit down and write for the hour or so it takes to drink the coffee. Plus, the added bonus of being around HK-era on a mission to be productive. Soaking up that energy really helps a lot. I need to do more of that, in general.

Unfortunately, I am sad to report I have not done anything with my time this weekend. I stayed at home, ate spicy noodles from 7/11, and re-watched the Star Wars Prequels and Obi-Wan Kenobi. I decided to forget my attempt to turn my neighbor into my Muse by consulting my OG Muse: Ewan McGregor.

Needless to say, the problem is officially solved. 🙂

As the Buddha would say, “Just let that shit go, fam!”

I let it go for my own sake. I used to exhibit a lot of unhealthy behaviors around guys like this. I would obsess, stalk, fantasize. I was young and stupid. It wasn’t until I finally hit my mid-20’s that I realized men are stupid and never worth suffering for.

This guy especially. Nope. No way. For whatever reason, the fact that I live right next door to this man strongly motivates me to take as much space from him as possible. I cannot be physically trapped with him in such a small space. It’s driving me crazy.

I’m really not kidding when I say there’s no mystery there, like at all. None. I can go weeks without seeing or speaking to him. Yet, I can hear when he comes and goes. I can see his trash piled up in the hallway. I can smell his cologne floating down the hallway and permeating the elevator.

Oh, yeah, get this! THIS is the biggest issue I have with him: He thinks I’m so annoying because I’m loud. Well, he’s annoying because he smells! Whether it’s cologne or cigarette smoke or his cooking or post-workout mansweat or whatever, I can always smell him in that building. It drives me INSANE and I don’t know why. I’ve never had this experience before in my life.

THERE IS NO MYSTERY AT ALL!

He actually told me once which bar he goes to in our neighborhood. I don’t go there. Ever. Specifically because I know he is there. Instead I walk 10 minutes up two gigantic sets of stone steps carved into steep hills, then over towards the escalator, and then take it all the way up to the Mid-Levels to go to a bar up there, all to avoid him. Mostly to get stories, of course, but also to avoid him.

I’m sure a wiser person than myself would read this and comprehend what’s actually going on here from a biological perspective. Don’t really care. Let nature work this situation out in whatever way it’s intended. I’m not actively involved.

Anyway.

Hmm, okay, well, enough with these random thought dumps. We all know I can’t handle living next door to a hot sexy beefcake. It just doesn’t compute for me. Like, “Is this Human or Object? Neighbor is Human but Hot Beefcake is Object. Cannot compute. System Overload. Weeeeoooooweeeeeoooooooweeeeoooo. System Meltdown!”

I am ridiculous, I know.

Okay, I have a book to write. But first, I need to go to 7/11 and buy a new pack of cigarettes. Then I have to go to the market and pick up some basic supplies. Then I will sit back down at my desk and actually try to work on my manuscript, which I am once again putting off because addressing the trauma around my father’s death is really fucking difficult for me!

Off now. Have a good day!

BLOG: Revenge is Mine

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Friday night.

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

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

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

“So we can have a chat.”

“About what?”

“Anything you want.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

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

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

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

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He looked at me sadly.

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

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

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

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

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

My life dynamic right now:

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

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

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

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

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

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

HASHTAG: GROWTH! HASHTAG: CHANGE!

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

“What are you doing after this?”

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

“Here? Really?”

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

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

Gross.

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

Bye Felicia!

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

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

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

The End.

BLOG: It’s Possible!

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Friday.

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

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

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

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

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

It was all worth it in the end!

*takes deep sigh of relief*

I’m so relieved, lol.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BLOG: I Choose Peace

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MONDAY

Here I am waiting for my dinner order. I’m in a much better mood now than when I woke up. At first, I was very angry at my neighbor for acting like such a jerk to me. As the day went on, I decided to just let that shit go. This is what men do. This is how they are. I don’t have the extra energy to waste on them anymore.

Now I am bizarrely indifferent towards him. Relieved that the Obsession Spell has worn off. I really do not like him at all, as it turns out. He’s not a very nice person. I can see why he is where he is in life. It is what it is.

Otherwise, my day yesterday was pretty okay. I wrote then went up to the Secret Society, where I met some new people I had not previously met before. Hung out with some people I know already. It was a good day. I really do have to learn to control the amount I’m drinking though. It’s a problem that will not serve me well in these types of rooms.

That’s probably what deflected me from the incident with my neighbor. I don’t need him to socialize, or for anything, really. So, what did I really lose? Nothing. Thank you for competing in the Six Nations Tournament of Betsey’s Heart and representing Hong Kong. Well done, lads. Carry on!

—-

TUESDAY

Not in the habit of writing lately. I’m pouring all my creative energy back into the manuscript I’ve managed to assemble over the course of the last year. I’ve also been spending a lot of time sitting in meditation. Not doing active, physical yoga. Just meditation. I’ve noticed a huge difference in my overall mood and sense of well-being.

Like right now, for example. Today I woke up and I was not angry anymore. Growth! It’s like… you know what’s better than worrying about some random man? That’s right! NOT worrying about a random man!

I win. I get to live happily ever after. The End!

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming, which is just me trying to figure out how to live my best Emily in Paris Life here in Hong Kong.

I am feeling much better about it since I started hanging out more at the Secret Society. I find they are much more open to what I do up there. They like having a writer in the mix. I’m told it’s refreshing from the usual bank and finance crowd.

Plus, it’s all people who are my age or older, not younger. They have lived here for a long time. They know more than me. I can learn a lot from them. It’s an important room for me to be in, whether I agree with their politics or not. I’ve learned to just not engage with it anymore. No good will come of it.

As I said in a previous post, hanging around the first few people I met here (like my Neighbor and this other guy I met who is in his mid-20’s), was becoming very draining for me. There’s a lot of negativity, a lot of cynicism, and both of these men felt way too comfortable projecting their insecure bullshit directly onto me. I don’t need more of that at this point in my life.

The main thing with my Neighbor is that he reflects my worst self back to me in a way that I find quite unsettling. I think I probably do the same for him, which is why he threw another tantrum and melted down at me.

Sidebar: I’m really starting to believe they’re putting something in those protein shakes that make men go crazy. Just a conspiracy theory I have.

At first, I felt bad about the exchanges I’ve been having with negative people this past year. Then I finally realized… it’s not about me. I’m working really hard on my emotional regulation skills, my general attitude towards the world, and my less-flattering behavioral habits. I’ve made so much progress, especially this year.

Sure, it hasn’t been easy. I think any normal person would come out of an abusive situation like the one I was in feeling unable to function properly. I don’t have to justify my healing journey to anyone, especially people who come from a culture that doesn’t value mental health at all.

Once again, I have come to the conclusion that spending time around men is draining, and spending time around women is ultimately better. I’ve started meeting more women recently who are mid-30’s and older, successful in the careers, single for whatever reason, and just living their lives. It gives me something real to look at and aspire to be. I used to view my older sister this way when I was young, but as I grew up, I realized how truly mean, spoiled, and cruel she actually is. Definitely not someone I aspire to be!

The women in my family are all so fucking mean all the time, especially to me. I couldn’t even tell them I was coming here until after all the arrangements had already been made because I knew they would try to sabotage it. That’s exactly what happened. They literally have no ability to support me or be happy for me. They just mow on in and take over everything and try to control me, which consistently ends with bad results.

Now they’re all shocked Pikachu face that I literally got on a plane and moved to the other side of the planet to escape from them. Yeah, there’s a reason I stopped calling you. It’s because I don’t want to talk to any of you anymore. It’s not that hard to figure out. At some point, I got tired of my mentally ill, alcoholic mother vilifying me to anyone who will listen while actively forcing me into a Cinderella-esque situation. Just crazy.

I don’t miss my family at all. I don’t miss my old life. I have zero desire to ever return to the US. I really gotta start playing that up more in job interviews. Give me a visa. I will stay for 7 years. Maybe even forever! I am ready to become a permanent resident of this small-but-mighty Island nation.

In ten years time, you’ll find me sitting in the Secret Society, giving out guidance to the fresh young expat who naively wandered in looking for a real opportunity to make a significant life change.

Off now. I need to tidy up the apartment and work on my various projects.

Sending peace and love out into the universe today. Have a good one!

BLOG: My Neighbor, My Nightmare

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Friday night.

Here we are at the Secret Society. Sadly, none of my favs are here. More incentive to leave early before I hook up with someone undesirable yet again.

This is the first time I’ve left my house to “socialize” this week. “Socialize” meaning sit at the bar alone eavesdropping on people who have no idea what I’m doing.

Anything to get away from my neighbor, who has been the subject of my fascination this week. I can’t help but wonder if he went down to the bridge in Causeway Bay and put an “Obsession” spell on me. He wished for the writer next door to write a story about him. And oh, did I deliver on that!

I spent all week speculating over what this British man could possibly be hiding in his attic. The answers are quite entertaining! I decided to write them all down and send them to him in story format. I thought he would appreciate it because he’s an actor.

Unfortunately for me, he did not. Things took a turn for the worse with this character later on Friday evening. And by evening, I mean early morning.

You see, I decided to come home at 10pm like a good girl and just put on my sweatpants and eat McDonald’s and go to bed early. Sometime around 5:30am, I awoke with a start. I thought nothing of it. Went out for a smoke, made a cup of tea, played some Mah Jong.

Then sometime around 6:30am, my neighbor finally came home after a full night out of debauchery. First I heard him stumble off the elevator and down the hall. Then he knocked on my door and shouted at me to stop writing about him. Triggering AF.

Then he went into his apartment and sent me a mean message on Instagram stating the same. When I tried to go outside for a smoke to escape him, he threw open his door and stepped out in a very intimidating manner. Then he went up to the rooftop and sat directly in the doorway so I would have no choice but to pass by him if I wanted to go out. He did all of this while wearing his sunglasses, which means exactly what all of us think it means.

I went upstairs to see just how messy he was. The sunglasses and weird little Joker smile on his face said it all. I admit to you that I was pretty pissed. Look at this fucking man out here judging me for how I live my life when he can’t handle a dose of his own medicine served up to him in return. Ridiculous!

This was about the moment I realized that I actually hate him. He’s so mean! He’s mean and judgmental. I finally decided to do a deep dive on him on the internet and figure out who he really is, which is nothing more than a spoiled little rich Island boy.

Like, okay, Mr. International Private School. Go off on how much of a shithole this apartment is just because it’s not in the Mid-Levels and doesn’t include a cleaning service. And you’re out here trying to judge me? I don’t fucking think so. You don’t even have a full degree. You have some bullshit certificate in Sports & Fitness. Is that why you’re so mad at me for writing a story? Because you can’t fucking read it, you stupid fucking meathead?

Asshole!

Meanwhile, all his pictures on social media are like, movie sets, pool parties, boat parties, holiday parties, parties parties parties, a wedding here, a wedding there, university in the UK, stag dos and Muy Thai fights in Thailand, trips to Bali, Vietnam, South Africa, Australia, Spain, even the USA. What the fuck does this outrageously privileged white British man even have to complain about?

Some women might look at this man and think, “Wow, he’s so handsome and mysterious and British. I can fix him!” Meanwhile, I look at him and think, “His body is a 10 but his personality reminds me why my ancestors fought in the Revolutionary War.”

I spent all of Saturday alone in my apartment, stewing in the tension from the exchange. I went out to grab my dinner to go, and when I came back, I saw him coming around the corner as I was walking up the stairs. I backtracked and ran down the stairs and back around the corner in order to avoid being stuck in the cramped space of the stairwell with him.

He did not stay out for long because he was sitting at the top of the stairs again sometime later. I was coming back in from a smoke when I walked around the corner and saw him sitting there. He tried to say hello weakly, but I just glared at him and brushed past him in silence. I have nothing to say to him anymore.

I really don’t appreciate how comfortable he felt coming home early in the morning all fucked up and immediately trying to use me as a punching bag for his obvious issues. At least when I come home fucked up, it’s because I’m dealing with some traumatic situation from the past. It’s not directed AT him. He came home and directed his bullshit AT me. Like, wtf, bro! That’s SO not cool. You said you were “working on it” and “trying to change.” The only person I see changing here is me, and she’s quickly changing into someone who has zero tolerance for men’s bullshit.

He’s very judgmental for an overgrown party boy in his mid-30’s with little significance to his name. I’m not taking his advice anymore. I don’t care how long he’s lived here. Plus, “You gotta cruise the Mom’s Groups on Facebook” is hardly the job hunting advice someone like me is looking for.

Best to just ignore this one from here on out. All he does is stare at his phone all day with his headphones in. He’s clearly checked out from reality at this point in his life. So not into it, bro.

This brings me to today, Sunday, where I was forced to evacuate my apartment after I discovered a cockroach crawling around in bed with me. As if this nightmare of a weekend could not possibly get worse, the cockroach DISAPPEARED between the bed and the wall and is now lurking somewhere in my apartment unknown.

I did the only thing I could do: I noped right the fuck out of there ASAP. Now I am sitting at a restaurant enjoying bottomless mimosas and mac & cheese. And, obviously, writing. I will deal with the cockroach later when I am drunk enough to find the courage to take it on.

We all know my useless-ass neighbor won’t be there to help me this time. He’s too busy playing Jekyll & Hyde in Betsey Horton’s Local Weekend Dinner Theatre Production.

Welcome to the worst apartment in Hong Kong. The rooms are small, the walls are thin (and occasionally melting), there are rats and cockroaches everywhere, and the next-door neighbor is a crazy British man with lots of secrets in his attic and a host of steroid-induced anger issues from drinking too much protein milk.

Love that for me!

Now the question is… should we head up to the Secret Society today? I think… yes. Let’s do it. I’m trying to be a little bit better behaved up there now that I have been “discovered.” That’s why I spent all week locked up in my little shoebox, obsessing over my jerk-off douchebag neighbor, and chipping away at my latest manuscript.

Now I have an answer for them when they say, “How far along is your manuscript? Have you found a publisher yet? I know a friend of a friend that can help you. Keep me updated on your progress and I’ll put you in touch.”

That’s all I care about at the end of the day. Forget this guy and his magical sweatpants, which I’m keeping, btw. He doesn’t get those back. Just saying. Not that I stole them or anything. I don’t even know what I’m saying right now. I’m clearly making this part up right now. What? Huh?

Okay, heading out now. Will update with more excitement from life in HK later…

BLOG: Just on My Way to Pick Up Some Sausage

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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

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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: I Need New Friends

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Wednesday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need new friends. Ugh.

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

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

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

Bahahahahahahahahaha!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe! Who knew?!

Shock and awe!

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

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

BLOG: Irish Dancing in the Rain

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Monday.

Here I am at ye olde Irish pub.

And may I just say… HELLLOOOOO sexy beefcake! Who is this hottie with a body who just walked in and sat right across the bar from me? I can hear a faint accent. Is it an Irish accent? Gurl ‘cause if it is… sign me up to climb that hill today.

Anyway, insert something about rewarding myself for my job interview today with a bowl of hot beef stew and mashed potatoes with extra, extra butter?

Ummmm I think this lad over here might be the comforting side dish I’m looking for today.

I don’t see a wedding ring! HAHA but as we all learned from the last Irish lad… that doesn’t mean anything at all.

Hmmm he might not be Irish. He said “great” instead of “grand.” Now it’s officially up in the air. Anyway, I need to stop looking at him and drink my Guinness.

He reminds me of someone… I think it’s…. Nick Jonas? Right? Is that the one who is married to Priyanka Chopra? Or is that Joe? Or was he the one married to the chick from Game of Thrones? I still haven’t seen that show to this day and have no plans to ever watch it. Anyway, I don’t actually know the difference between the Jonas Brothers. I’m too old for that shit. He looks like at least one of them. Maybe. I think.

Anyway, a little thirsty there, Bets? Maybe you should have split your G before you looked up from your iPad. It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s not looking at you. He’s looking at his phone with that weird little twisted smirk I recognize so well. I already know exactly what that means.

Thank you, next.

ANYWAY WHAT WAS I TALKING ABOUT?!

I have no idea. Where am I? Why did I come here?

I don’t remember who I am anymore.

Okay.

I have now eaten my potatoes and stew. I have had half of a pint of Guinness. I’m chillin’ in the Irish Pub listening to Irish Music. I’m grand. My spirit is officially recharged. Sometimes I feel myself running on empty and then I come here for a meal and it’s like I’ve magically sorted myself out again. Love that for me. Nothing like a bit of Irish magic to set me right when I need it the most.

Anyway, so I had a job interview today, which is what I actually came here to say. It was okay. I think teaching adults might be a better fit but I don’t know about this company. They said they’re undergoing “restructuring,” whatever that means. The online reviews aren’t great. I wonder if that has anything to do with the “restructuring?” Probably.

My interviewer was American, which was great because bonus points for me, duh! Do you know how hard it is to find other Americans in Hong Kong? It’s a challenge! So that already puts me slightly ahead of the competition. Plus he had some similar experiences so he could vibe.

The office itself was definitely giving “bro” vibes. I looked around that room and it was all bros. I could feel it before I looked because I walked in and everyone stopped and stared at me. I could feel the male gaze upon me. Then I looked up and around and sure enough… it was mostly bros.

So, yeah, obviously I don’t know about that one. I’m not exactly enthusiastic about working with mostly men. I feel like it could be… distracting? Problematic? Better to avoid altogether?

I don’t know. I’m not in a position to be picky, so let’s just see how my follow-up interview for the other place goes on Wednesday. Then I gotta make my visa run to Macau this weekend. So much to do, so little time.

Let’s just say I’ve definitely learned the importance of shopping around today, lol. I’m still freaking out, of course, but I have nothing left to lose at this point, so I just have to keep pushing through, whatever that means…

How am I feeling right now? Mostly like I just want to go home and get in bed and wrap myself up in a blanket and watch Netflix while the thunderstorms rage on outside. Instead I decided to hope the MTR over to the Kowloon side in the middle of a major thunderstorm warning and live dangerously.

I’ll be sure to take the Star Ferry back just so I can get the whole “Irish Ancestors leaving behind their barren, empty, famine-ridden homeland and crossing the stormy seas to find their way in a brave new world” vibe. Really makes the meal worth it, to be honest. You really need to suffer through the rainy slurry on a rickety old boat…

Just kidding. There’s no ferry service in this weather. I just gotta hop the MTR and be done with it.

Well… best get to it before the weather gets even worse.

Have a nice day!

BLOG: The Darjeeling Limited

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Fri-yay!

I am currently hungover AF, which is a shame because I had big plans for today. In addition to the two interviews and dozens of rejections, I had three follow-ups that I definitely planned to follow up on today. Naturally, I self-sabotaged by getting way too drunk while I was at home alone.

Welcome to my life. And here I wonder why no one will ever love me, haha. Hey Betsey, here’s a brilliant idea: why don’t you stop looking at men and look at yourself for a change? Learn to love you and the mess that you are instead of waiting for some hot beefcake to rescue you from your bullshit.

Wow, brilliant, so many lessons learned today. I feel so enlightened now!

Yes, yes, yes, learn to love yourself, blah blah blah, become a strong, empowered woman, and all that jazz!

That being said, I would still very much like to end my days by falling into the arms of a hot, sexy beefcake (preferably with an even sexier accent) who just rescued me from a cockroach. That’s the real dream right there.

Listen, Ewan McGregor divorced his wife, married a woman 20 years younger, got her a job playing a Twi’lek in a Star War. It could still happen for me. I could be Wife #3, you know what I’m saying? There’s still time for me to see what’s really underneath the kilt, ya know what I’m saying?

Lol

Hahaha

Yeah I’m definitely still “off my tits” as they say in… Ireland? Scotland? England? Wales? The UK? I don’t even know anymore. They’re all so different. Is this a colonizer phrase? Who even knows anymore?

Breaking News from the Thai-US Embassy: Your passport will be revoked if you’re not making your child support payments on time.

I love this for all Thai women everywhere. Now let’s do the Philippeans! Stop letting these gross Passport Bros get away with shit! If I’m not allowed to go back to Thailand because I pissed off the local branch of the Irish Mafia, then they definitely shouldn’t be allowed back.

I’m totally kidding, of course. I’m not banned from Thailand. They’re would never ban me. All I do there is spend ridiculous amounts of money, and I don’t even talk to Bar Girls! I just blow it all on staying in a ridiculously overpriced loft with a bad pool just so I can be 5ft from the bar I’m obsessed with and all of the beautiful, wonderful, amazing people who frequent it. Love that for me!

Anyway, so that’s why I had to come back to Hong Kong. Now I blow all my money on a tiny little shoebox apartment where I somehow magically lose things like hair clips and my phone, which makes absolutely no sense. It must be the faeries. When in doubt, always blame the faeries, or the “little people,” as we say in South Dakota. Well, I don’t know if that’s what “they” say, but it’s definitely what Mad Dog used to say!

So yeah, I was definitely supposed to do real, actual, productive things today. Not sure that’s going to happen, which is unfortunate because I have things I really need to get done.

Instead I am sitting here at my favourite brunch place, right on the patio, in the heat, away from the air on like a crazy person, sweating it all out as I watch the world pass me by. I love it.

So many hot beefcakes walking by on their way to and from the gym on their lunch break. I love it. Obsessed with the beefcakes. Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight! Won’t somebody take the shadows away!

Everyone here thinks I’m so crazy for sitting in the heat instead of the aircon. Like, I get it, the weather is insane, but I really need to sweat it out. I keep telling them I used to live in a very, very, very cold place and now all I want to do is be out in the sun and sweat all my shitty feelings out. They don’t understand me. It is what it is.

Here is my real question: how do I get paid to sit in a restaurant and just watch people on the street? This is the only job I know how to do. Everything else is just, like, so stressful, you guys.

I literally do not know how people exist in the full-time corporate job world. They are all so fucking weird. They have no personal lives, no hobbies, no personalities, nothing. They just work, work, work, and then maybe go to the gym, and then they wonder why they’re all so unhappy, and then they make the rest of us feel bad about not being obsessed with work like that are.

Like, listen, I get it. I hate my family too. Honestly, the majority of them are terrible, narcissistic people who treat other people like shit and literally cannot handle being talked to in the same way. All I’ve ever wanted to do is get the fuck away from them. But I don’t throw myself into a job just to escape from that. That’s how you end up dying in a pile of your own shit, just like my dad. It is what it is.

I still remember the last thing my dad said to me before we all went to bed and I found him almost dead the next day. His last words to me were: “Can you pick me up a chocolate mocha frappachino?”

And then we found him half-dead in bed the next morning and then he was in a coma for two weeks and I had to be the one who called in the medicine man to read him his last rights because my stupid, evil mother was too drunk to literally do anything except be mean to me, and then I had to watch him die in the hospital bed right in front of me.

And then literally everyone in that stupid fucking shithole town was a giant fucking asshole about it, because that’s who they are and that’s what they do. Thanks again for ruining my life, Dad! So grateful for everything??????

Lol, yeah, whatever, at least I get to live in Asia now. Just like I always dreamed. Literally. My life only got better because my dad died. How fucking fucked up and shitty is that? It is what it is.

And this is why I have no idea how to have fun.

This is why men are a problem. They think it’s MY job to provide “fun” for them and then they get mad when they have to do actual emotional labor in the middle of the fucking blackout they put me in by plying me with booze nonstop.

So fucking stupid. Clean up your own mess, bro. I can’t do that for you. I will never do that for you. I am not your fucking mommy, okay? I’m not picking up your dirty underwear off the floor or doing your laundry or cleaning your house or cooking you food. Your job is to stand there looking sexy while fanning me with a giant palm leaf, then carry me away on my solid gold throne. Okay? Okay.

This is why I’m not married. My spirit did not reincarnate multiple times just to serve some stupid fucking man who won’t even wash his own dirty asshole. Fuck you and your fucking patriarchy. I am the motherfucking Queen!

“You don’t have to love me. You don’t even have to like me. But you will respect me. Why? Because I’m a Boss!” -Kelis

SO I had some things to do today. Instead I’m sitting here on the patio writing crazy, unhinged things and having notions. This is exactly why my Irish ancestors got on that fucking boat and came to America. Their dream was for the 7th generation ahead of them to sit on a patio and write and make art and look fabulous while doing fucking NOTHING! No work down by the docks or in the factories or on the farm. No having 18 children, half of which died somewhere along the way. No nothing. I don’t have to do shit now, just like my ancestors dreamed. Yet somehow, I still feel so unfulfilled…

I have definitely sat in the heat for too long. It’s starting to make me sick. I need to go inside and sit by the aircon.

Okay, okay, okay, done done done.

Now inside. The sound of the construction on the Temple is very loud. I like this spot because it’s close to the historic Man Mo Temple. Man Mo is the god of “literature.” I always stop at the gates on my way home to say a prayer. I love the “Under Construction” vibe right now. It makes me feel better about myself. Like, yes, we have stood the test of time and survived, for better or for worse. That being said, sometimes we need to take some time to fix ourselves up for the sake of future preservation. It is what it is. I love it. I’m so here for it.

I should get a job as a bar cat. Like the meme. I don’t work. I don’t care. I just sit in the wrong spot and somehow run the entire place. Like Andrew did at Bloody Mary’s. Is my dream to actually be Andrew? Is that why I was so obsessed with him for like, what, ten years? Who even knows anymore!

That’s the second time this week I’ve thought about Andrew. I haven’t thought about Andrew in a long time. I mean, how could I? Between the Hot Beef Stew and The Russian, my heart, mind, and va-jay-jay has been extremely occupied. There’s very little space for a fictional character these days. I just meet so many attractive men. Sometimes I still look at Andrew’s old pictures and think to myself, “Wow, I really thought this guy was hot.” Goes to show how slim the pickins really are out there on the lone prairie. His catchphrase should be, “Yikes on Bikes!”

I will always remember this chapter as that time I was so desperate to get railed by a hot sexy beefcake that I wrote two whole books about the bartender I thought was really hot from far away, but only in a dark room.

Just kidding. I just thought of him now sitting in the doorway with his mountain man beard, looking mean and old and cranky AF, wearing some ancient fucking t-shirt from some concert he went to in the 90’s, taking off his baseball cap and wiping his forehead in exhaustion, as if he had actually done something productive today. Like maybe he mowed the lawn without the t-shirt and hat on, and then walk down to fetch the mail while I was riding by on my white horse, and that’s why he’s tired, or something? IDK!

Sorry, wow, wait, did it just get hotter in here? Because I’m literally sitting under the aircon right now and I just started sweating again.

I mean… he might not be the Pabst Blue Ribbon winner of the Magic Mike Live contest, but something about that really did it for me. I mean, you don’t see me sitting here writing two novels about The Russian. It is what it is.

I know I love him because I have lived my whole life being screamed at and called crazy, and he’s the only person who ever did that in a way that actually turned me on. I was so into it. I was like, “Please, yell at me more. I don’t know why I like this but I do.”

I don’t like it coming from anyone else, but when you do it, it’s like… somehow the hottest thing ever? No one knows.

Awww, my Andrew. I loved my Andrew. I really did. At least, I thought I did. Let’s be real here. I have never been in an actual, meaningful long-term relationship. I just stare at hot guys from far away and fantasize about what it would be like to have them fan me with a giant palm leaf. I don’t know jack shit about love.

But if you asked me if I’ve ever been in love with anyone… I would tell you it was Andrew, every single time. I loved him. I really did. I don’t know what real love is… but… whatever I felt was pretty close to that. I hope he’s happy now, wherever he is. Maybe Seattle? Who even knows these days? I don’t know. I don’t look for him or check in on him or ask about him. I don’t have to. He just visits me in my dreams…

*sigh*

Anyways, yes, what the fuck was I talking about again? My dad dying? The fact that I moved to the other side of the planet just to be this fucked up all the time? Maybe something about paying child support so your passport doesn’t get revoked? Who even knows anymore!

I really need to eat something. All I had for a dinner was a plastic cup full of olives and feta cheese to go with the two bottles of wine I drank after eating nothing all day.

I think sometimes I act this way because I just want to die and I lack the courage to just jump off the rooftop when the void calls to me. So I just kill myself slowly with alcohol and cigarettes and men instead. It is what it is.

Anyway, I can’t kill myself. I’ve already tried multiple times. It never works. Someone up there wants me to live, to survive, to give something back to this world. I don’t understand. If I’m still alive after all of this, I must have some kind of purpose. I just don’t know what that purpose is. I just know when I look at worksheets about teaching grammar to children, I feel absolutely nothing at all. It means nothing to me. I’m just here for the job, the visa, the paycheck. I can’t make a difference in this world. I’m just a woman, standing here in front of a white board, asking for a steady paycheck without the cost of being bullied at work.

It is what it is.

I really need to eat something. I haven’t eaten anything substantial in like… at least two days. At least.

It is what is.

I like that scene in the Darjeeling Limited at the end when they all leave their baggage behind and board the train, waving it all goodbye. That’s the vibe right now. I just want to leave my impossibly heavy suitcases behind and hop that train to the next shitty little village in India, and do yoga with a giant snake, and just have fun and live life and have a good time.

I wish I was fun. I just want to have fun. Someone, please, teach me how to have fun. I just want to have some fun!

Okay, I’m done now. I really do need to eat something or I will actually pass out in this “brunch concept” of a restaurant right now.

The End!