Ok girls…. I’d be lying through my teeth if I said I didn’t miss my munchkins (Itchy & Scratchy). Plus, The Captain doesn’t appear to care as much as I do that we have (1) left them with our Helper in Hong Kong (yes, shes wonderful & yes we have cameras….) (2) time alone together just us … well…. it’s a bit harsh no? I mean, we’re meant to be getting on brilliantly.
I had images of him chasing me into the ocean waves, or strolling in the sun hand in hand, laughing, joking, gossiping (basically… I was imagining a gay friend, I had the bonus of having sex with). BUT, the reality…. we have just agreed, we want to literally harm each other. The Captain told me to “go ahead and order another Cosmo” as I’m such a joy when drinking … which of course I did (hey, you don’t need to tell me twice), and I told him “sometimes I’d like to hold a noose round your neck and keep tightening it”. YES I SAID THAT. Big fucking deal.
Who isn’t married and comes out with worse comments… seriously? I’ve actually edited some things that took place at lunch-time today. I was in a very jovial, almost over happy mood after indulging in my new book by Russell Brand (my not-so-secret celeb crush), “My Booky Wook” and was enjoying myself, laughing out loud (he’s fucking funny), until HE (AKA “The Captain”) turned up to “talk” about my behaviour (hey, for the record… I wasn’t sat there without a top on indulging in any sexual/illegal act….well…not today anyway).
What is it with the new age /metrosexual man and their need to chit chat!? What happened to just relaxing with a cocktail and no feelings chit-chat bullshit? After a row at lunch which involved many a familiar line about how I hated his family, him mine (people staring at us both while this took place, but The Captain always does like a good dramatic scene) and how neither of us can agree on anything…. I then text my troop of fab girls back home who told me “I’m loved” and then I wanna cry and jump on a plane back to London, Heathrow ASAP.
Even on holiday in the Philippines, I want to be home. I want my family (who drove me maaaad), my girlfriends (who I always, always love being with) and the biggest loves of my life, the kids. The Captain and his brood though… well at the moment… I’m all done on exhausting arguments about family, and whose is more “normal, better, wierd” etc. I’ve always had to spend more time with his than mine, mainly because mine like a quiet peaceful life, and the Captains love drama, have more religious holidays, followed by arguing and me always feeling like the odd Duckling in the crowd (I didn’t say Ugly, I said Odd). That will never ever change, nor do I want it to.
I am now stuck between a rock and a hard place. Does anyone know what that actually means because it sounds to me like I’m pretty much fucked either way?! I want out of the whole non-stop arguing. I’m not “lucky” or “ungrateful” because of my new bull-shit fake affected life in Hong Kong. I’m alone, I have 2 small babies (who I have had to leave in HK to “prove” my love to The Captain) and I miss my Mum (yes, I’m also a big girls blouse…. anyone know where that saying comes from?!). I wanna go home. If anyone reading this can give me a ticket home (plus enough space for 2 babies) and no Legal crap about an additional accompanying adult for baby no.2 (any infants under 2 can’t travel without an adult), please email me.
I want to go to London without ANYONE but MY family & friends knowing. I want to go home. The Captain today… well… he just sealed the deal on how hard this relocation business is. I thought I was doing really well until he told me I was “ungrateful”.
Ungrateful!? Have a look at our Twins from 2 years of trying IVF. Have a look at your new home that I moved us into, once again (for the 3rd time…he didnt unpack anything but his underpants), have a look at how happy and chilled your kids are (they get that from me/wine). Have a look Captain. I have done everything you wanted and i tried very hard. Today…. I’m mentally packing up and heading home ….. even if I do have to live with your Mum as shes the only person who has any room in her house.
Damn it… I need to re-think things or start playing the fucking lottery.
ps. As I’m writing this, the family on the next balcony to ours is KICKING OFF. Big fight between Mum/Dad about “respect” (I’m drinking my freebie bottle of red vino and blatantly staring!) So you see…. EVERYONE is fighting and yet we all put on a fabulous bull-shit, we’re so fucking happy show. I feel better now….. right…. errr… where’s The Captain?!
So girlies, I’m off on a long weekend break to Philippines with The Captain, and despite missing my Monkeys terribly, I know we need some time out for our wedding Anniversary. Time to regroup, time to remember why we go together in the first place, time alone, and time to party late into the night, holding a bottle of Vodka in one hand and my Hubby’s in the other (we were great at that).
It will be hard after so many years of trying to tone things down, but we loved to be away on holidays, sometimes 8 times a year. Whether it was long weekends in Amsterdam (smoking the local delicacy), Prague (food), Brussels (Mussles with frites), Malaga (Gambas pil pil), skiing in France …. Everyone I worked with hated me as I was always jetting off to Italy, Spain, Ibiza, France, Bora Bora, Fiji, Vegas (Baby!) …. you name it…. we did it.
Plus we enjoy diving and liked to push the boundaries. BUT, we didn’t have the twins (or the copious amounts of luggage they come with). The arguments getting to the airport are drastically different to the ones before. Now, it’s over who sits with the easy baby, who holds the buggy, changing bag, what if they go into meltdown on the plane, do we feed them before take off? zzzzzz. Our rows before would involve buying magazines and who read what first.
Soooo… as I pack for my trip, I know what the Captain has on his mind. SEX. It’s very simple. If I dish it out, we wouldn’t have one itty bitty row, about anything. So why does one hold out when we know this is the secret to keep men quiet and fun? Well, I’m just bloody tired and not feeling that sexy. Ok, after a few vodka shots and a smoke on the bong, who knows what I’ll be doing, but stone cold sober…. I’m just tired and want to sleep in the sun (and maybe get a nice tan too). This, of course, is not how men are programmed. Less sex for them means, distance. Women need to be feeling close to their fella emotionally in order to put out the goods. I read this crap somewhere recently.
I have to state, I am very much in love with the Captain, and often recall those early days of continuous sex in all sorts of public places just for the hell of it (sometimes 3 times) but we had no kids, responsibility, a huge mortgage, old parents, and generally life hanging on our shoulders. I will say this…. all the excuses I hand out, are lame. If my life is going to be fun and happy just by giving The captain a quick nosh here n there, so be it.
Sooo…. off I pack for a long weekend away to drink with my Man, swim, dive in the sea, shag in someone elses beach side villa with swimming pool (& hopefully CCTV to capture the moment), drink again and have sex all over our luxury Hotel in the Philippines.
BRING IT ON!! I just hope customs in Manilla Airport don’t open my suitcase to discover all sorts of, ahem, sexual paraphernalia…
Ok, so, I’ve been told to “curb my chat a little” as people will cotton on as to who I am, & I’ll probably never be invited to anything again. Keep my mouth shut? Tell the truth, but NOT too much.
Ladies and Gents, really?! Do you want me to tell the truth as I see it (Lord forbid) or, keep quiet? I haven’t got time to waste, living by anyones rules but my own. I’m not going to live any way but my own. If this is a problem for people, why? Why can’t we be, who we really are? Why can’t I open my door and say, “I can’t be arsed today mate, I’m tired.” Why can’t i say, “I’m sad”, or “I’m lonely”. This is not weakness but, for me, someone who doesn’t show their emotions too often, this is great.
About 3 years ago, after my Mum had a stroke, I had an epithany, when I decided, no more. No more making others happy over myself. No more worrying what people thought about me. No more being polite to people, which I have to say, I’m great at…I was raised very well. But, no more, well, anything. Do you know how liberating that is for someone like me?! Raised to be a polite, quiet (unless spoken to), lady?!
You’re either in, or out. That’s how it is for me. I’m not ashamed of who I am. I’m unreliable and yet very reliable at the same time. I’m loyal, trustworthy and the kinda friend who turns up with a shovel, spade and a drive into the country…minus any questions (should you ever need it, but never judgemental). I’m a good friend, a great wife, and above all, my aim… a wonderful Mum. If I can steer my twins in the right direction, even a little bit (as no one ever gets it right), I’ll be happy.
Today though… I’m sad. My parents haven’t been feeling well, I miss my friends at home and, well, it’s not easy being an expat. To me, personally, it feels like I’m creating a false world on a different Island. My husband is there, and yet at the moment, I’m still very lost.Very very alone. Empty sometimes. How do those expats turn up all over the world and re-create a new life?!
The truth is this. I miss home. I miss my amazing best girlfriends (their blokes are soo lucky to have these women), I miss being able to call someone who can bring me down to earth in a second. In Hong Kong, you have no one. It’s not real. There’s no history. I felt alone today for the first time in ages. Ironically, I was surrounded by loads of new friends but, boy….. do i wanna go home now!
Having just about managed to find my feet in Hong Kong, I have begun to wonder about all the expat wives/partners who moved here. Did they find it easy or difficult? Were they angry, pissed off, stressed with the move …. especially if you had to move your entire life and children too, while your partner was probably over here already (possibly months before), and you packed up your entire home, alone.
Since our arrival, I have been incredibly honest about the difficulties I faced in moving abroad and leaving our great life in the UK. At the moment, my only plus with Hong Kong, is still just the warm weather. For the Captain, who loves it here, its more the Tax relief, lifestyle, great weather, Trecking in the mountain and outdoor stuff.
I have heard and read various horror stories (Nancy Kissel being just one), where lots of expat marriages seem to be doomed from the moment they touched Hong Kong soil. Loads of people I know are in Marriage Counselling too. Why?
Well it’s not unheard of, or uncommon (from what I’ve read on geoexpat and asiaexpat), how the Men have places to go and “party” in Wan Chai, but besides that, there is Macau and all types of escort services everywhere. But it’s not just the men from what I’ve heard. The girls are out there having their fun, too. I just read on asiaexpat, and I quote “One of the boys banged his client’s wife after the client went home early from a night out drinking. And they did it several more times afterwards, with the wife initiating it each time!” I mean, FUCK?! What is wrong with these people?
Everyone seems to be looking for a cheeky shag. According to Asiaexpat there are loads of men exchanging tales of sex behind their unknowing wives backs (the predictable, ungrateful, mother-of-their-kids, wankers) and those wedding vows simply mean nothing here in Asia. Clearly.
I also want to quote another bloke on asiaexpat who states; “The fact we are westerners gives us status, as usually poor western guys never make it here, so the ones who are here are the ones educated and with money, at least that is the asian vision of us. On top of that, traditional asian mentality places little importance in physical beauty, and anything different is attractive, so both western guys and asian girls are attracted to each other even if the guy is a potato. Before I came to Asia I was in a rock solid totally committed never cheated 5+ years relationship with promise rings, almost the whole nine yards. This lasted 7 months after my arrival. Any major city in Asia is heaven for expats and no mistake.”
So…. what he’s saying is, your Man is going to head out there and shag someone else as the temptation is sooo high and apparently, even if he is limp, missing a ballsack and looks like Rodney Trotter, this dick will still get laid by someone, with or without their beer goggles on. In my eyes, to inflate their already bulging egos, and if “The Missus” (or “Her in-doors”) isn’t putting out, someone else might as well do it. Especially if they’re out drinking in vile, Faliraki Style, Wyndham street , Soho or LKF on any night of the week.
Yes, there is a culture in Hong Kong for expats to play around but I never realised it was too easy for guys to do this. In fact it really pisses me off! I have a Moral compass and I have never faltered from who I am, and what values I do believe in. Shagging, snogging, petting, lap dancing on my Man, are all BIG no no’s.
According to my research, all this shagging around is not done openly, but in a under-hand kind of way (from what I’ve read, some blokes have a shared sex pad just for their conquests in Soho or wherever).
This other bloke on asiaexpat also said; “I don’t know any guy that I am close with that is an expat that does not fool around. Of course, there are different levels of playing. There are ones that strictly visit the pros for a wham-bam-thank-you-maam, there are ones that like to pick up other expats at the clubs, there are ones that like the locals, married or not, and there are ones that have actual girlfriends that may or may not know they are married.”
Why the fuck would you put up with this bullshit?? What?! So because we moved to a different country, our Men have all gone mad and started humping anything that moves, because they’re sooo fucking arrogant, they think they can. And the ones who go to the “Pros/Strippers/lap clubs”… well they are the worst type of scum, as in their minds, it’s not even cheating if you’re paying a hooker. Really?? Would you do that sort of shit IN FRONT of your wife you DICK!?
I can say this now, with my hand on my heart, if I ever EVER found out that The Captain had been cheating on me during “business trips, late nights at the office, clients dinners, having a drink with the boys, or even before I showed up in Hong Kong”. I will end his entire world, by leaving. Its simple. Oh… and as an added Fuck You, I’d have a revenge shag with someone he knows, just to show him how much it can hurt.
It seems a woman needs a reason to cheat, a man, well he just needs a place.
I have to sign off now and go check my Hubby is sweetly tucked up in bed. He’s definitely not the type of Man listed above. I wouldn’t have married him if he was (plus I have him tagged just under his butt cheek so I know where he is at all times).
One thing I will say, having read up on this for the last few hours (and there are hundreds of threads about this on asiaexpat). Hong Kong is certainly somewhere to test your marriage and push it to the limit. I will hold my wine filled cup to that, BUT, pull your shit together and remember who you were before you arrived on this Island of Madness. This doesn’t feel like the real world for me yet (yes, I’m still homesick and will be heading back to London sometime over the summer ….. cant fkin wait), but it’s not bloody Vegas either. For every dumb asshole who thinks he can sleep around behind his Partners back, there’s also a woman who knows about it, and she will be doing the same right back atcha! Your wife, girlfriend, partner, will always know when something is up.
ps. I think I want to go home before my Husband catches this unknown “must-have-sexitis” illness.
pps. Captain, if you’re reading this, I have 3 big brothers, a shovel and have learnt my way around the woods of Hong Kong quite well 😉
* Photo of Repulse Bay Beach … my local.
Ok, this story is in 2 parts. The 1st bit is about our ex-Helper (yes, again) and the 2nd part is about having a laugh with your Man and laughing soo hard, you realise, sometimes it really is the best medicine.
Soooo, my grand plan to foil the silly cow (ex-Helper) failed…. kind of. She rang our house (she stopped working for us approx 3 months ago) and at nearly 10pm, asked our new Helper how long she’s worked with us. Our new Helper didn’t understand why this woman was asking her all sorts of questions and put the phone down quickly.
I then get home that evening, and after a few bottles of wine, decided, then was the time to confront this silly cow and tell her to piss off, stop calling my house and get a life. The Hubby attempted to stop me, but I told him I knew what I was doing and to butt out. Anyway….. she didn’t answer her phone. Cow! I was all geared up too! Instead I end up leaving a pointless text message telling her to leave us alone and that was it.
The next day, The Captain rings her new mobile on a withheld number, she answers, and then denies ever calling our place. She then admits she rang to “see how the children were” (yeh, because she gives a shit) although she didn’t ask one question about them. The Captain asks her “Why are you calling us and interrogating our new Helper? Why are you lying on Geoexpat and Asiaexpat about your experience? etc”. She’s telling people she still works for us too, the cheeky cow. He told her to leave us alone, stop calling our house, leave our Helper alone too and to stop making up lies about our family (like we’re the Mafia).
Since then, we have had a few random calls at the apartment. One call yesterday went something like this; “You Filipina? You are silly woman?” This was the 3rd call in 2 days. When I reply, with gritted teeth, “WHO THE F@%K IS THIS?”, the caller starts laughing down the phone. It turns out The Captain likes to think he’s a bit of a joker. Nob job.
I pointed out, there’s only room for one of those in our family (Me), although our Daughter has also started to show some of her mummy’s flair recently with pulling faces, biting her brother, kicking her daddy in the ball sack if he sits in front of her while she’s trying to watch Little Einsteins etc. Anyhow, the phone calls have ceased, although our ex-Helper is STILL advertising her services on geoexpat, stating she worked with 9-year-old twins and we are going back to “Europe”, but that’s the end of that…. for now.
As a result of being wound up by the Hubby with his fake call, it became my new calling to catch him out (by scaring/winding him up) and last night, I finally managed to do it.
As most of you mummy’s know, the window to wash your hair after a loooong day with the kids, cooking, cleaning, shopping (yes, I have a helper but she’s old and not as quick as I am) running around…. well, time for you is minimal. So…. I had a shower at about 11pm last night, and as it was soo late, I went to bed with a HUGE towel wrapped around my wet hair. I have über thick crazy hair which is a nightmare to blow-dry unless you have 4 arms, in which case you should really be in a Circus (yes, very Un-PC…bla bla). For the record, my Hubby thought I had straight hair for nearly a year when we first met, until we went on holiday and he discovered I actually have a huge Afro that needs taming, especially in humidity. Two words for that now though ladies, HAIR SPRAY.
Anyhow…. I wake up at about 3am with horrendous (& I mean, AWFUL) pain from what The Captain describes as “the painters, decorators, arrival of Satan” every month. I have two very large fibroids in my body (while I was pregnant they were incredibly prominent) and these cause me a lot of pain, every month for about 3/4 days. They can’t be removed just yet, in case we decide to have more kids. Yes, I have twins but there is potential to add another duo sometime (yeh right).
Its hardcore but I’m good with pain (I’ve got Twins for crying out loud!) and get on with it. I explained to the Captain that if Men went through what Women do, nothing in the world would exist and there would be no procreation.
Plus, I believe in reincarnation and in my next life…. I wanna come back as a Man. It looks waaaaay easier and a shit load more fun. Boys road trips, Steak dinners, farting openly, burping even louder (& laughing about it), cooking BBQ’s only but your wife cooks all the rest of your food, Vegas, Strippers, being a Bastard, no make-up, no blow drying your hair (unless you’re a total Metrosexual, in which case, welcome to my site), no ceiling on your earnings (yeh yeh like times have really changed that much), if you date someone 20 years younger you get a big slap on the back, AND you look better with age.
Sorry, I got sidetracked. So, back to 3am last night….
I wake, in agony, and stumble to our guest bathroom in the hallway so as not to wake the Captain in our en-suite (no, we don’t live in a posh flat but we have a spare loo… shoot me). Oh, I also forgot to point out, that pimples (or potential ones) seem to arrive at the same time every month which means I was looking absolutely gorgeous with Oxy 10 Spot Cream on parts of my face (this white stuff is amazing and zaps spots in a day) and my huge turban style towel wrapped around my head.
While sat there in the darkness, the door creaks open, and standing there in the moonlight, is The Captain, stark bollock naked…. about to go to the loo (well, until he saw me on it thankfully) and he SCREAMS, physically jumping back. He then stumbles back to our room (possibly to hide?!)
Now as I write this, I still can’t stop laughing about it as it has to be one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen a person do in aaages (especially someone as poised and controlled as The Captain). I climbed into bed after the incident, and couldn’t stop giggling on/off, for one hour. The Captain did too and later explained what had terrified him.
Basically, he was half asleep, and not wanting to wake me, had stumbled, bleary eyed, into the spare bathroom right outside our room (he’s clearly considerate, like me). As he pushed the toilet door open, the light from the streetlights outside the bathroom window, shone onto me and he thought he saw, “The Devil”. I’m actually quoting him!! THE DEVIL!!! I laughed so hard, it actually took away the period pain for about a millisecond.
When I woke this morning to tell our Helper the story (which must have annoyed her as I was laughing soo hard when I told it & these stories are never that funny for other people), but she starts laughing too, though I don’t think she really understood me. The kids are both staring at me (bless ’em) and they then start laughing too (pretend laughing) but only because I’m laughing soo hard, I’m making snorting sounds and have tears running down my face. I guess you just had to be there….
Anyway, that said, whenever you feel even a little bit down now, I suggest you remember one of those times that made you laugh soo hard you can’t speak/almost wet yourself. That image, last night, of the Captain jumping and SCREAMING, is something that will last me a few weeks…. absolutely priceless.
Last week I met a group of gals to discuss the pro’s and cons of Tummy tucks (as well as other surgery from boob jobs to Botox), for Mum’s of Multiples (or in my case…. TWINS!)
One Mum has just had a full tummy tuck with a scar that stretches from one side of her tummy to the other, and resembles, in my opinion, a smile (ironic too considering that’s what I’d be doing after such a fab piece of plastic surgery).
After nearly 6 weeks, she is fully recovered and unbelievably happy. And so she should be, considering her tummy was stretched beyond belief during her pregnancy. Both her Twins weighed well over 7.5 pounds!!! I mean…. fuck!!! She could barely walk into the hospital when she gave birth. She also had a 7 centimetre gap between her stomach muscles from where her body had been stretched so much. When I spoke to her, she’d just bought her first bikini in 5 years and was bouncing off the walls with happiness (hell, I’m surprised she didn’t turn up wearing a bikini… I would have with those results).
Now, my twins were almost full-term at 38 weeks, which is apparently pretty impressive in the world of Multiple births as the norm can be anything from 32 weeks onwards. Given my small size at the time, all and sundry expected me to go into very early labor. This did not happen and I got progressively larger by the minute. I was even putting on weight while I slept and at one point, I was convinced I must be sleep-walking into the fridge every night. I mean, by the time I gave birth by elective C-section (like I was gonna even attempt that “naturally”…. what am I fucking stupid?!!) I was MASSIVE. I had gained FIVE STONE in weight. FIVE STONE PEOPLE!??!
It’s no wonder the Captain didn’t want to have sex anymore … although I did try it on all the time like a teenage boy would. And I do mean, A LOT (no one tells you how horny pregnancy makes you, especially if you are carrying a boy, but apparently its their hormone in your body). Which actually explains why they all walk around looking for sex the whole time… hmmmm…. I mean… in hindsight, I was like one giant penis trying to get laid at every opportunity. It’s no wonder men wank constantly…
Anyhow, back to being a huge obese pregnant woman, I was soo big, I had to have TWO epidural due to the amount of fluid in my body. I couldn’t lie flat in bed either as I would faint from the pressure the kids put on my internal organs (even during hospital scans, I had to be almost upright towards the end, or I would faint). I mean, twins, or more…. its hardcore from day one. Even before they pop out, they’re giving you an insight into your new life. One would be awake all night inside my tummy while the other slept during the day.
I would wear those headphones you can get while pregnant, at night to listen to them sometimes and I swear my son was building something with all the banging inside my tummy. My daughter would start partying a little later…. hopefully something she wont continue to do as a teenager. She already looks like me but, acting like me will be a nightmare… I was expelled from one school in London alone for “not working enough & having parties at my house”. This was news to my Mum at the time when she met the Headmistress of my school “to discuss my options” …. I had to pretend the Head had dementia and had been gunning for me from day one (a complete lie of course but I couldn’t let my parents know that’s where all their booze was going from the “Drinks Cabinet”in their lounge, which BTW, had a lock on it!)
Anyhow, if I thought for one second I was going to attempt natural birth during my pregnancy …. I don’t think I would have been walking around as happy as I was (the Captain loved me preggars BTW as I was sober the whole time & couldn’t stand the smell of wine….) And despite looking like a small elephant (who had eaten two children), I thoroughly enjoyed the whole pregnancy thing.
That said, Itchy & Scratchy not only did a great job on stretching what used to be a washboard stomach you could literally bounce coins off (The Captain LOVED my tummy). They also screwed up my hips (I was a very small size 6/8 UK), I had carpal tunnel in both hands/wrists (constant sensation of tingling which was horrible when trying to drive/cook), and the fucking headaches/migraines were a killer, especially when you can’t take anything more than a pointless paracetamol tablet (useless on someone like me in any event as I need the hard stuff).
NOW….aside from all that, its my stomach which is pissing me off. I’m being kind to myself when I say it looks like an 80-year-old womans which I literally have to tuck into my knickers (or my new NBF’s, Spanx). The skin has been stretched sooo much that despite losing all my baby weight in under 4 months (I’ll be honest, I was strict with myself and determined to shift 5 stone as quickly as possible as the weight was killing my knees & I was fed up wearing The Captains jeans… fucking depressing), this didn’t really do my skin any favours. Slower weight loss equals better skin elasticity, apparently.
Also, despite hours in the gym (yaaaawn….unless there’s some sexy instructor to stare at) and now my obsession with Allegro Pilates in Stanley (I fucking love it and swear I gain weight the minute I stop), still this “envelope” of skin is sat there. Staring at me…. Day after day…. after day. Reminding me, never to show this bloody tummy off until, I too get a tummy tuck. I also forget its there from time to time, as I was so used to having such a lovely stomach that now if I raise my arms up in the super market and my T-shirt lifts… I automatically pull my top down as the skin above my C-section scar is loose. It looks horrible and I don’t want people seeing it. Am I being vain??! Yes of course, fucking of course!! I’m a bloody woman!!? I mean, who doesn’t want a nice body?
Now, I’m still going to give myself a bit longer as the twins have only just turned 14 months and I’m determined to at least try to tighten this skin. I’ve googled it all on the net and apparently, skin brushing and moisturising will help. However, my local Doctor, who I used to consider lovely (she’s had five kids though, the crazy cow) told me, it wont ever go but its the price we pay to be “blessed” with kids.
“BLESSED”?! How is it that these celebs are losing weight super quick and no loose skin?? Yes, I know, pretty much all have a surgeon to do a few nip/tucks, but where’s the scars etc? I’ve been watching that Kourtney Kardashian on E Hollywood and after just 3 months, she had lost the baby weight AND has a flat stomach. She’s also wearing a bikini (bitch) which I used to love poncing around in when my tummy didn’t jiggle like flippin jelly in a wrinkly old leather handbag.
Soo….. any of you out there who have had recent surgery in Hong Kong, drop me a line and tell me how it went? Who would you recommend etc? Also, if you have had any great Botox guys too (I currently have a constant frown which is more due to the kids/Captain driving me nuts), I wants numbers please!?!
Why do they call it a baby shower? Apparently it’s because you get “showered with necessity gifts”. I think it’s because when it rains, it pours… You have NO idea what lies ahead and 3 or 4 months of sleepless nights, 2/3 hourly feeding and basically … if you’re lucky to brush your teeth, hair, or trim your pubes… you’re already ahead of the game.
Maybe it’s because I’m a cynical Mum of twins… no sleep… no perspective. I recently attended a lovely, thoughtful baby shower (I’ve asked if the gorgeous gal in charge, who has lived in Hong Kong for over 15+ years, would do any other parties…she thought I was joking). I have to say it was brilliant. I met some absolutely hilarious, witty, sharp minded ladies and my face is aching from laughter. The lovely lady who threw this function for us all… if you are reading this, is, in my eyes, a dream Mum/friend/and I’m guessing wife.
We had an endless supply of champagne (already an A star in my books), food, and cakes. The company though, I found hard to begin with. Not because they were difficult but I’ve said this before… I’m absolute shit at small talk (which is a complete nightmare when meeting new people and my Husband always needs the loo the minute we go anywhere).
So, I’m talking to someone I’ve never met before, and they are looking over my shoulder to see who else is more interesting, when more people arrived. I have to say that along with (a) Not saying please/thank you/Excuse me/& was that you that just farted? (b) Looking over someones shoulder and not engaging them in conversation, just in case someone more interesting arrives, pisses me off. It makes me very annoyed and then when that person is stood all alone at the end of the day (as everyone else has noted they are rude too), I’m not going over to say “Hi” or recover that conversation. They were too rude to begin with! Engage in your conversations people. It’s not hard to be polite. Especially to a stranger! I don’t like it and you are blacklisted from my life, forever.
Anyhow… I got pissed on a batch load of Rose Champagne and the lovely Hostess with the mostess, sent me home with food too. I climbed out of a Taxi in Repulse Bay with balloons strapped to my wrist and our doorman….looking at me & thinking….”hmmm….where’s that number for Hong Kong child services?”
I’m not going to apologise for getting drunk at these functions (hey, it’s not like I’m taking my top off to flash my boobs or anything). I like to have fun! All of us do. Some people just like to judge more than others (it makes them feel superior… idiots) and that’s why we all act like weirdos when we first meet. We’re trying to suss out who’s fun and who’s going to judge later.
Why why why can’t we go out, have a ball, get drunk…without judgement? And, its only women who are like this. Men (I have 3 brothers) are not this judgemental…probably because they have more to hide (especially the ones who give you that smirk when they say “oh we went on a boys trip to Vegas”.. oh fucking grow up)… or don’t really give a crap.
Please tell me??! I have never ever met a person, in my entire life (& FYI, I’ve met EVERYONE who is slightly odd), who hasn’t done/said/partied/drunk/snorted/slept/something …. Teenagers, Parents, age, background…. it’s all irrelevant but please… stop being soo fucking patronising.
I went out on the town a few nights later with a huge group of girls. Some got absolutely hammered on wine/vodka (you pick your poison), some didn’t. The ones who didn’t ended up putting others in Taxi’s and giving that “knowing” look like… “tut tut… she’s soo drunk” – FYI… it wasn’t me! You (yes you who is reading this now…not the “literal” you) were carried home once I’m sure by a friend/someone, puked somewhere from booze or g-d knows what (if you haven’t… then you’re square and get off this site immediately as I can’t deal with anything critical unless its funny).
We have ALL done something and, we are the ones who set the bar on right, or wrong. I’m NOT going to apologise for going out, getting drunk and having a great time. If I make YOU feel uncomfortable, then remove yourself from ME. BUT, don’t ever, patronise me and act like you are doing ME the favour by taking me home, or giving me some “advice” on life. I’ve survived 4 operations in 2 years alone, cancer (not me but someone so dear it may as well have been Me.. my heart.. My Mum), strokes, IVF (3 injections every day for NINETY days), redundancy and every other piece of crap that has been thrown at me.
Take your smirks, judgements and everything else somewhere else. You don’t drink, you don’t party, you don’t get angry, you don’t EVER lose it? You must be a Saint then.
I’m all done here. I’ve lived a good few years and survived without help. I love to live now and that’s what I’m ALL about. You don’t like it. Fuck off. I wake every day in my world (nobody else but you experiences your life so don’t listen to anyone but you) and I’m going to live by my rules. I’m so done with everyone elses. To be fair, I think we all are.
ps. I think I need more sleep.
Ok…so… I tried this amazing take on cheese on toast.
It’s easy, so even those of you who pretend you can’t cook….well…. this is just…yum. Hangover or not, this is lovely.
If you’re a single girl/guy, and wake to offer your booty call some breakfast before your easy lay leaves… well this piss easy breakfast of posh cheese on toast will seal the deal (for another shag), should you so wish…although, lets face it… when the beer goggles are off…. you can’t BELIEVE what you took home the night before. Sometimes, even a name is a little fuzzy – oh yes, the shame. Like I give a shit.
Anyhow… YOU MUST TRY THIS…at LEAST once. Impress guests when they stay over (add some sausages, tomatoes, bacon, a few eggs, beans…bloody fab).
BEST CHEESE ON TOAST IN THE WHOLE WORLD (CALORIFIC but worth it!) – INGREDIENTS & HOW TO COOK IT
White bread (as many as you want to eat). Cheap or expensive…it doesn’t really matter… BUT….cut the crusts off (you don’t have to but its kinda nice… and a little bit… rahhh dahling yah rahh) and toast it.
Butter. Again…cheap or not. Up to you but spread it on the toast. Generously …. up to the corners of every slice.
Honey Dijon Mustard, spread ON TOP of the butter. The sweetness of this particular Mustard makes this even more yummy.
Cheddar cheese (sliced or grated), thickly laid on top of the slice (or slices) of bread (the depth of half a finger I think is really enough… unless you feel like scrubbing your grill/oven after).
A couple of tiny slices of tomato (not a WHOLE tomato…a couple of slices from the tomato…on top).
Black pepper …grind it on top (and if you like Tabasco… add a drop on top of that too).
Place under the grill until the cheese is melted, but not burnt… I reckon, put your timer on for about 2 minutes and keep checking the grill. You want golden, not burnt cheese/bread.
After, take the cheesy toast out of the oven, splash on some Worcestershire sauce (who can pronounce that properly?!) if you fancy.
Eat, enjoy with a hot cup of builders Tea (I love Earl Grey.. not builders tea clearly) but Yorkshire/PG Tips/English Breakfast (whatever?!)….bloody lovely AND a great start to your day.
ps. If you love Sausages or eggs, add one or two on top…. its indulgent but…it’s breakfast.
pps. If you can’t cook this… well…. shame on you. Even a blind dog with one leg and no ball sack can cook this. You’re just being a bit…fucking lazy.
ppps. If you worry about calories. Use low-fat cheese, low-fat butter/spread and even that horrible diet bread (I’ve not seen it in Hong Kong). You’ll work those calories off within 3 hours of waking (if you have twins, or copious amounts of sex). In hindsight… if you have twins, you’re probably (a) having no sex with your partner as you’re still mortified by what happened the last time, and (b) you’re too bloody tired and want to kill your Husband.
IF YOU DONT LOVE BANANA BREAD… YOU’RE WEIRD.
This recipe, is easy and makes a delicious Banana Bread. When the bread is moist, which as you can see from the pictures, it is …. this wont last more than 2 days in any household and I love making it.
There is enough for approximately 10-12 slices and I keep it wrapped in foil as it gets more and more moist over time. I wouldn’t keep it for longer than 1 week otherwise it starts growing hair and that’s when you have to chuck it. And lets be honest…it would have been a crap batch of bread if it lasted that long in your kitchen!
270g soft brown sugar (I like muscovado. Its brown, has a nice molasses taste and is lovely for baking. I prefer it over regular brown sugar which seems to turn to a rock after a few days in my store cupboard.)
280g plain flour
3x medium bananas mashed
1 tablespoon Vanilla Sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
1 teaspoon of ground ginger
1 1/2 teaspoons of ground cinnamon
150g unsalted butter, melted (pop in the microwave for approx 40 seconds and then leave at room temperature).
THE COOKING PART
FIRST….GET ORGANISED AND HAVE EVERYTHING READY TO GO.
Without sounding like a complete anal weirdo, I line up my ingredients in order of use… otherwise you forget. ALSO, NEVER EVER drink while baking/cooking something nice…. you will forget vital ingredients (g-d forbid).
Preheat the oven. I used to think this was just some crap they threw into cook books but do it. Its vital.
Put the sugar & eggs in a huge bowl and mix with a handheld mixer (or if you’re lucky enough to have a freestanding electric one…. good for you. it works just as well).
Beat sugar + eggs until they’re properly mixed.
Mash your 3 bananas with a fork. Until it’s the kind of quantity you would give your 10 month old baby. Not too mashed and still a bit lumpy.
Add your flour (sift through a handheld fine sieve to get rid of lumps), baking powder, cinnamon, bicarbonate of soda & ginger to the sugar mixture. Also add one teaspoon of Vanilla sugar. I sieve everything together through my handheld sieve thingy (mines from Ikea).
Mix the whole flour mixture until all dry ingredients are properly mixed and then add the sugar/egg mix to it.
Pour in the melted butter and beat everything with your handheld whisk (or if you’re a bit posh… your freestanding one). Make sure everything is mixed properly.
Pour the mix into a loaf tin (or those new rubber ones that I personally love and use for everything because they are fucking brilliant and easy peasey to get cakes out of…muffins etc). **NB. The loaf tin/rubber tin needs to be greased with a bit of olive oil (i dab it onto some kitchen tissue and rub all over the tin) and sprinkle (through a sieve, NOT loosely) some flour all over the tin, on the sides and base.
Once you have poured all the mix into your tin, smooth over with a knife or palette knife and bake in your oven for approx 50-60 minutes. I would check after 50 minutes to make sure you are not burning the loaf and if you think its cooked but are not 100% sure, put a cocktail stick through the middle. If it comes out clean (it’s a tiny stick so it wont mess up the look of the bread or anything), then you know its done.
Take out of the oven, and once it’s slightly cool, turn it out onto a wire cooling rake (or in my case… I use one of the wire racks from my oven which is slightly raised so that the bread cools down all over, including underneath).