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Judgemental troll comments on ex-pats

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So…. I am a HUGE hater of bullying.

HUGE..

I have always, ALWAYS, considered myself to be kind and decent to people. I can’t even stomach witnessing someone being verbally bullied in an adult environment, let alone kids playground (same thing to be fair).

Bullies are (in my opinion before you comment/go mad & attempt to sue me for a comment “Bullies Not R Us”) weak, struggling personally, and allow their own insecurities to lash out at others. They don’t appear capable of accepting other peoples happiness and lives.  They like to “put you down” and upset your emotional confidence.

Therefore…I have done something, I’ve never, ever, done since starting this site.

reacted to an Internet troll who attacked the Ex-pat way of life.  Yes, I DEFENDED EX PAT LIFE. Madness.

I apologise in advance, before you read this, for sounding like a complete hypocrite. I just cant help but get infuriated at comments that are made, simply to antagonise, get a reaction (this one did), and…to be fair… if people can pass judgement on who I am, why the hell can’t I fight back?!

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FYI – HK ID card from Wikipedia added above to make my barrage of words look less “wordy” and more visual too. NB. There is NO WAY the bird in the photo above is born in 1968!?

Anyway….going back to Interet Trolls and random, unknowing, judgemental comments that I’m sure more Bloggers are used to by now.  I however, am not.  I like to be “liked”! Its nice to be thought of in a good way.  However, I dont like to be “judged” or “bullied”. Nope, never happening.

Sooo….please see a charming “internet trolls” comment below.

“Cheri’s Comment” (again, below!)….was one, and only one, brief, pathetic, sentence.  While I’m almost sorry for acting like a sanctimonious bellend, sometimes its necessary to verbally slap a bully.  AND, I just couldn’t help myself this time. I tried to leave it….honest!

Comment made by Cheri…. “CHEER THE FUCK UP AND BE GRATEFUL”.

MY RESPONSE BELOW:

“Dear CHERI (your name screams Vegas stripper btw)…

The fact you’ve, somehow, in your troll-like state of mind, stumbled through the maze of internet search engines (shocking you can spell) to get to my blog…surprises me.

Normally I encourage those less able, yet you’ve excelled in finding my site, AND passing comment. Not only have you unfortunately attempted to undermine me, but your comment, which I’ve actually accidentally overlooked for a while (due to the amount of NICE comments I filter through) was, I have to admit, amusing as hell!  Its almost like being attacked in the playground by a 6 year old boy (normally with a “Mohawk” haircut), keen to get a response, and out of pity, I’ve now decided to give you one (a response that is).

I’m guessing you were a lonely (despite “trying soo hard to have friends”), heavily moustached, possibly thin/thick set, lone, bully at school, no friends, experiencing issues with social inadequacy, lack of confidence and probably some form of body dysmorphic disorder (google it luv).

You may also have had Middle child syndrome (although you’re probably an only child, lets face it as I’m a “middle child” and LOVE that excuse alone to guilt my family into doing stuff for me!)? You are generally internally angry due to your possible, open, vile, toxic internal contempt, and disgusting inability to connect with other human beings? You HAVE tried to make good friends but people just seem to….hmmm….DISLIKE you for some reason?  Your family pets probably recoil and hid behind furniture whenever you walked in the front door…they already knew the tragedy you were/would inevitably become. I bet you attempted to be good at maths (or chess) due to the solitude that gave you, away from socialising with people in general, therefore making you unattractive in all other areas of your life because you lacked anything remotely kind within yourself. I’m also guessing any form of human interaction that’s fun or involves laughter breaks you out in an uncomfortable sweat? Whatever your very clear personal lack of mind-set is/was/will always be….I HATE BULLIES SOO MUCH and I’m soooo grateful, you sent me such a trivial, albeit, quite disappointing, remark.

YOU have taken the time, in your obviously important nirvana like state/life, to comment in a vacuous, undercut, insolent manner (google the words as I cant possibly imagine you appreciate the meaning of anything Ive said). You have read a few segments, of a strangers blog, then judged all of us Hong Kong ex-pats on our lives.

WHO TOLD YOU TO KEEP READING?? Why didn’t you just flick onto your normal bestiality website and leave normal discussion, to like-minded, good people?

Your plain, meaningless (attacking) comment means what? Exactly? We should be ashamed we don’t/didn’t enjoy the luxurious, tax haven we lived in? Are we not allowed to comment on anything, in case we appear ungrateful and elitist?

Do you think your brief rude, attempt to patronise, will have ANY lasting impact? Which, yes, I know its ironic that I’ve taken the time to respond now…. BUT…the only reason being…you’ve just demonstrated a massive component in why ex-pats are struggling (especially stay-at-home parents) with their new lives abroad.  YOUR judgement, and “CHEER THE FUCK UP” mentality, is a clear issue in the ex-pat community and has created an obvious divide in peoples thoughts when talking about the “Gweilo” way of life.

You’re a “hater”.

A pissed of human either:-

(a) working and annoyed your spouse isn’t…yet still hitting Wan Chai nightly for copious amounts of booze, lap dances and ego stroking.

(b) Not working, and just trying to create conversation as you’ve got no friends aside from your helper (& lets be honest, she’s plotting her escape back to the Philippines/an Chai/Half Way House/Your husbands “Lock Up”, as I write).

(c) You don’t even live in SE Asia but like to antagonise and pass judgement simply because you’ve got nothing better to do as youre out in the countryside somewhere milking cows, or catching buses and feeling angered by our blatant disregard for what should be “happiness”.

(d) You’re a Helper…. kicking off with verbal abuse simply because “Maam” asked you why you were having a swim (in her swimsuit & 5 carat diamond earrings) at 11am, when clearly an 8 month old child had been left alone, to fend for themselves on the 80th floor of their block. But as you feel, shes such a RICH BITCH Ex-pat, you turn her frustration into Middle Class guilt, and blatantly pretend you don’t understand “what the problem is M’aam”. Therefore, alas, your employer lets you have a swim while she rushes off to make you lunch to show how “cool and unaffected” she is/hoping a real trusting friendship will finally begin….since you do look after her child ‘n all. You already have decided all Gweilos are “spoilt” and will punish anyone who crosses your path.

(e) You’re a man AKA you posses a Penis, pretending to be called “Cheri”…in which case…genius, and thanks for the content in any event.

This site has, and was, started, simply to express my take on life in Hong Kong. You do KNOW that people who write books, talk, teach, preach, and follow a religion, ALL HAVE A RIGHT to do that? This site has an open approach to like-minded, NORMAL, people who are free to feel as they chose.

Your attempt…albeit sooo pathetically put in a childish attack to disparage what ex-pats are feeling, just because YOU feel we should “CHEER THE FUCK UP AND BE GRATEFUL”, illustrates SO CLEARLY, what a closed-minded idiot you are. ITS YOUR KIND THAT IS CREATING ISSUES FOR HUMBLE, NICE PEOPLE, trying to get some form of real perspective on Ex-pat life.

Who made you the Preacher of what Ex-pats should/shouldn’t feel? And who gave YOU permission to judge me, or ANY ex-pat on how we are living?? It is YOUR sort, with your pre-judgement, sat in your tower, spewing shit, who are creating a “Cheer the fuck up” hostility.

If more than a few hundred people feel unsettled in a new environment, in a new country, like normal ex-pats are currently struggling with, then its a FACT. We are here to support each other. To express natural concern and thought. Your sort is NOT WELCOME ON MY SITE AGAIN.

I don’t know a single person in Hong Kong who ORDINARILY lived in the lifestyle they were suddenly thrown into living. Our open issues with it, are possibly a plethora (look it up you dumb fuck) of feelings and guilt for “larging it”. I grew up in a small flat. I couldn’t and still can’t, get past having “help”. Nor do I want to. My choice.

I’m bored of attempts by people like you, with judgemental messages that seem to be written simply for a reaction. The reason I HAVE reacted this time is because youve proven a point. Its people like you, Western and local HK residents, who attempt to  undermine anyone who complains about missing home, or not enjoying what seems like “paradise”.  Hong Kong is NOT paradise. Fact.

Get a life and get the FUCK OFF MY SITE.

What I write, in jest, or truth, is my choice.

You’re clearly a controlling, incapable, emotionally cold human (if that). Trolls who attack for no apparent reason don’t affect me. I’m assuming you’ve got zero friends, a dog that hates you ( you probably kick it when you walk in the front door), and family that had to move miles away from you, just to get some normality, without feeling guilty for showing any signs of happiness.

My blog has always been written in jest (you freak), and is something I suggest you think about in your own padded cell, judgemental, bitter world.

I wouldn’t ordinarily give someone like you (with limited vocab/lack of empathy/clear wind-up merchant) the time of day. BUT subjects like yourself, who feel sooooo important, that you felt the need to attack ANY ex-pat, struggling to settle in, for whatever reason)…. get a life. Who CARES what you all like to judge and feel? We don’t judge people like you all the time as we have LIVES to moan about. Like NORMAL people do.

Next time, I’ll reveal your IP address just so your neighbours know the ignorant bully living next door, is full of contemptible BS.

Any questions? Drop me a line. I’M DYING TO KNOW WHAT YOUR THOUGHTS ARE.”

 

http://yummyyumtwinmuminhongkong.com

 

 

 

The best meatballs and tomato sauce recipe…. ever!

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Ingredients

  • ground mince beef (approx 500g) BUT the more meat… the merrier is my lingo!
  • 5 cloves garlic mince
  • 1x onion chopped finely
  • 1 cup shredded parmesan (add 1/2 cup more if you love cheese… it won’t hurt!!)
  • 3 tablespoons parsley (dried
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 cup of breadcrumbs (best you can shop buy unless you want to make your own…. I’m not even going to bother explaining how to do that in this recipe)
  • 2 cups water (freshly boiled)
  • 2 tablespoons of ground nutmeg
  • 2 tablespoons of worcestershire sauce
  • salt & pepper to taste …liberally

Tomato Sauce:

  • Cooking time – 3 minutes maximum.
  • 400g chopped tin tomatoes
  • a big bottle of Tomato/garlic sauce (Dolmion/ragu/whatever label)
  • 1 onion finely diced and chopped so you can’t even see it! Fry this with a dab of olive oil and then add the garlic below for 2/3 minutes maximum.
  • 3 cloves of garlic crushed and cooked for a few minutes with the onion.

How to cook:-

  • I personally like to fry the onion for approx 3 minutes until they are golden brown then add the garlic for less than 2 minutes under a mild heat.  Then take off the heat when all is golden and once cooled down mix with everything below.
  • mix the meat, herbs, seasoning, parmesan, breadcrumbs and onion/garlic in a bowl. Wrap into balls, the size of a ping pong ball.
  • Put in the fridge for ideally 30 minutes so they set a little.
  • Take meatballs out and place into pre heated oven at 200 degrees for max of 12 minutes or until they look a LITTLE bit brown but not crazy “I can’t cook” cooked (you don’t want to over cook!!!) ** Photo below is of pre-cooked rolled balls…

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  • Then you add the BALLS to your tomato sauce which is made up of tomatoes from a can (yes, I didn’t stand there, crushing them with my feet), also a bottle of tomato sauce you cheat with to make lasagne sauce (or any sauce with tomato and garlic ideally) and cooked onion and always garlic extra (2 more crushed cloves).
  • Photo below of cooked meatballs after being in the oven for approx 12-15 minutes at 180-200 degrees. Check the power of your ovens as some are better/stronger/wiser than others.

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  • Photo above of tomato sauce and meatballs BEFORE they mix!
  • Let it all simmer for approx 30/40 mins on a low heat, in a huge dish and then serve that amazing food with pasta, bread or just put on a stick (the only way I could get my 3 year olds to eat the stuff!).

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It tastes amazeballs and was eaten in under 5 minutes in our house (that’s including my 3 year old daughter who keeps telling us she doesn’t “eat meat” & The Captain who “hates the bolognaise sauce”.  He loved this so I clearly did something right…aside from give him three children, convert to Judaism, move to HK, accept his shit…. the list is endless really. He struck gold with this cookie to be fair…. ).

Anyhow…. enjoy the recipe x

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Jewish Chicken soup…. because I’m a Jew in’it….

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So… I was told, being a previous “goy” or “persian shiksa”,  that to make a great chicken soup was like meeting your maker.  This was the ultimate ritual in gaining acceptance and respect within my husbands Jewish family (he lied to be fair as his family loves me and it was really just him doing yet another little “test” to see if I was worthy of his hand in marriage because he’s a meshugener (yes… arsehole).

So… in my attempt to become the ultimate Baleboosteh (“Mistress of the house. A compliment to someone who is a terrific housekeeper. “She is some baleboosteh!”)…. I decided to do some kick arse home cooking once again.  Plus I love to fucking show off so it didn’t really bother me. Oy Vey!

Anyhow back to the story…when I finally converted to Judaism (you know…. because I wanted the wedding ring, and kinda fancied our 66-year-old Rabbi who looks remarkably like the dark-haired guy with big lips from Flight of the Concords), that Jewish Chicken soup recipe was hanging over my shoulders like a bitch on heat.

I mean this soup, compared to normal chicken  soup or carrot & coriander, is like “penicillin with magical wonders and matzo balls that add some form of wisdom”.

So…. on my quest to make the ULTIMATE soup that made his whole family scream “Oy Vey this bitch is now part of our people”, that not only kicked my Mother-in-laws-ass (I like her BTW….gulp) the soup of all soups to show every other chicken soup… I decided to attempt to find out what was the cause of so much friday night “mishegas” (google the word because I’m still new to yiddish, 8 years later).

Heres what I discovered (aside from the fact that Im a fucking brilliant cook when I’m in the mood)

Skill level : If you can read a recipe & have a pulse, you can make this soup. BUT, you must pay attention to the seasoning AND the Matzo balls.  Also, keep an eye on your kitchen door as I noticed Matzo balls disappearing as I cooked them which made me concerned that maybe I had consumed more alcohol than usual.  Turns out, The Captains a fat bastard and likes these more than strippers on a friday night.

So…here we go BUT before you read on, I MUST advise you.  Just because i SAY this is the best chicken soup in the whole wide world does not mean I am open for any court judgements or libel claims in relation to my statements.  I am just stating this MAY be the best chicken soup in the world.  Get over it and now go cook the damn thing for your family.  If your husbands an arsehole, I suggest adding extra arsenic or some Xanax just to keep things mellow on a Friday night Shabbat dinner. JOKE.

HOW TO COOK THE BEST CHICKEN SOUP:

Ingredients for chicken soup:

  • 8 chicken legs /thighs/shoulders OR 3 whole chickens if you are making 3 big tubs of soup to freeze
  • bunch of fresh parsley
  • bunch of fresh dill (or dry)
  • bunch of celery chopped into cubes
  • 2 bags of carrots (approx lbs chopped)
  • 7-10 parsnips washed and chopped into cubes
  • 1x huge turnip
  • 4x large cartons of organic chicken broth
  • 5-6 chicken cubes stock idea;;y organic
  • lots of water (approx one ltr)

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Directions on How to cook Chicken soup:

  •  Put the washed chicken legs, thighs body etc into 2 or 3 big pots, depending on how much you want to make.  My ingredients are enough to feed 12 people happily on a raucous friday night dinner.
  • Cover the chicken with water and salt, 3/4 full in the pot.  You need to leave space to add vegetables.
  • Bring the cooking chicken to the boil over a high heat and keep skimming off the foam (fat) into a separate bowl.
  • Add pepper, parsley, dill and celery to the cooking pots.
  • Cut all the carrots, onions, parsnips and turnip into chunks and put into the soup.
  • Boil all the ingredients for over 3 hours ideally. Add extra water if needed and keep skimming fat off the top of the soup.
  • Add 5-6 chicken Oxo cubes and 4 containers of organic free range chicken broth to all the pots.
  • After cooking, turn off the heat and sieve all the soup through a colander into a big bowl leaving behind all the yummy vegetables and chicken.  Now these leftovers can be put back into the soup although bear in mind most of their goodness is already in the water of the soup.  I sometimes make a chicken and vegetable pie from the leftovers which the kids love.
  • After sieving all the soup into a big bowl, the stock goes back into the soup pot with a handful of added lockshen (very thin noodles)
  • Bring the soup back to a boil and add some of the deboned chicken and vegetables for an additional 30 minutes.
  • Check seasoning and add more Salt & pepper if needed.
  • Add the matzo balls (cooked in the fat & soup mixture) which will only take approx 10 minutes to cook.

The soup is ready top go. Shalom and enjoy!

* A word to the wise… When you have small children, keep the soup traditional and as empty of the chunky veg as you can (unless your kids genuinely like lumps of carrot & onion, then knock yourself out).

Photo below is a mix of Skimmed chicken fat & clear soup to cook the matzo balls in.

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Photo below of Soup with the frothy fat that needs to be skimmed off.

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Left over Vegetables below to either return all to the soup, OR, add half to the soup OR all to a vegetable pie instead. Up to you.

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Clear chicken soup below without any vegetables or matzo balls.  My kids love it pure like this and my 11 month old has this with her rice.  Its full of vegetable and chicken broth.

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Is that a heart-shaped Matzo ball i see below me!?  Well yes it is…. because I’m fucking fabulous… plus it was the only way I could get my 3-year-old to eat one!

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The infamous home cookbook below….. if I lost this… The Captain would be screwed as it holds all my new Jew Crew recipes.

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The end result….. 3 large pots of chicken soup ready to freeze for any colds/coughs/hangovers/”I need soup” days etc….. just call me Aunt Ethel

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Ingredients for Matzo Balls:

1. 4-6 tbsps melted chicken fat skimmed from the soup

2. 4x  large eggs

3. 1 cup of matzo meal (add 1/4 more for matzo balls and a 1/4 less for airy.

4. 1 tbsp salt.

5. 4-5 tbsp of soup stock

To cook 10-12 the Matzo balls:

  • Beat eggs slightly with a whisk then add chicken fat to the mix and keep stirring.
  • Add the Matzo meal & salt.  Mix Well.
  • Add soup stock and mix.
  • Refrigerate the mixture for at least 30 minutes or more preferably.
  • Matzo balls rolled with wet hands and placed on cooking paper, covered with cling film to cool for at least 30 minutes to one hour.
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  • Approx one hour before the soup is served, make little matzo balls by scooping a teaspoons worth into your wet palms and rolling them into a ball.  If your hands are wet tho swill make it easier to roll and less sticky.
  • You can then refrigerate them or put them straight into a pot of boiling chicken fat and soup combo to cook for approx 10 minutes.

Photo below of Matzo Balls cooking in at least 1 &  1/2 pints of chicken soup & fat.  Add more liquid if necessary.

IMG_0933** NB.  You can also make these balls and then put them in the freezer with a batch of chicken soup.  I tend to line a strong Tupperware box and layer out approx 10 matzo balls on each level.  They are easy to cook from frozen.

ps.  The photo at the top of Mickey & Minnie fornicating was thrown in for the hell of it…..

Bad transport in Hong Kong?

 

 

 

Bad transport in Hong Kong? 

 

 

First of all, please observe the photo above, that was taken while stuck in a traffic jam.  You have to zoom in to see the kids slumped over in their seats, not a single one awake.

I actually turned to the Captain, who was once again on his mobile phone, and said “Check those kids out!  They’ve been drugged!”  Every single child on the coach was out cold. Their heads either resting on the seat in front, on someone else, or on their own laps/backpacks (the yoga generation).  The Captain, who was busy on a “business/social call” turned to look and started laughing his head off.  Every child was asleep.  These kids were knocked out cold with gas/over-exertion/boredom, asleep.  It’s a good thing the driver was still awake (just about).

Speaking of public transport…. I HATE the taxis in Hong Kong.  Actually, I pretty much hate Taxis anywhere in the world but I really really hate Taxis in Hong Kong. Why do I hate Taxis generally? Well, some drivers think they have some God-given right to drive like they’re part of a Formula One team, despite being totally shit and having numerous near collisions.

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The Captain was recently in a Taxi that span out of control on a wet road, while driving to the Southside of HK. Now for those of you who know those roads, they are windy and mostly single lane along the Island road. Imagine losing control and by sheer luck, another car wasn’t coming in the opposite direction.  He was lucky not to have been killed.  He then admitted he thought the Taxi driver had been drinking.  What the fuck gave it away?  The stench of booze under his breath? Or the fact he could barely speak when he picked you up and almost swerved into a lamppost?

Now last year, I took a Taxi to the airport with my 1.4 year old twins, while pregnant and our Helper, heading back to my beloved London.  Our Taxi driver fell fast asleep behind the wheel while it was raining.  FAST ASLEEP!!!  I started shouting at him to wake up and stop the car as he was veering off the road.  Seriously…. I hate Taxi’s here.  The guy then acted as if nothing had happened and wouldn’t stop the car.  I almost head butted the twat when we got out of the Taxi at HK International Airport.  I never feel safe with these idiots.

Just recently, two young chefs from Heston Blumenthal’s famous Fat Duck restaurant (UK), were killed when their taxi collided with a bus in Hong Kong.

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http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2235880/Two-chefs-Heston-Blumenthals-Fat-Duck-restaurant-killed-car-crash-Hong-Kong.html

I’m fuzzy on the background, but the poor guys got killed because of the dumb idiots who transfer hundreds of people daily by public transport.  The accident was caused by a Bus Driver who “fell asleep” for 10 seconds or something, and rammed into another bus and the Taxi with the two young Chefs, crushing them.

If you see some of the Taxi drivers who pull up, eyes half-shut (and no, not for obvious reasons), head lolling from side to side, GET OUT THE TAXI!  Don’t be fucking stupid.  The annoying thing is that I’m so scared to let the kids get into any Taxis that I have to drive them everywhere myself, everyday.  Can you imagine?  The Captain won’t even discuss a Driver…. selfish git.  I mean…. ok, that’s my only job here really (childcare) but it really does interfere with my week day drinking as I need to be able to get behind the wheel of a car and drive the kids to school the next day.

So, I’ve told my Helpers that if they suspect any Taxi driver is under the influence of drugs/booze/glue/simply sleepy…. when they have my kids with them (I mean, fuck ’em if they’re going on their own and they’re dumb enough to sit in the Taxi) they need to stop the car and get out immediately.  My one Helper then told me that one of the few times she took my kids to school (one morning when I was abroad), the driver fell asleep behind the wheel while driving along the windy Tai Tam roads.  Did she get out the Taxi?  No.  She said she proceeded to talk to him in order to keep him awake. IDIOT!!!

I told her and Number 2 Helper, from now on, if there is ever an issue, to tell the Driver one of the kids is going to be sick or needs to shit and get the fuck out of the car immediately.  They’ll want you out anyway if they think someones going to puke or shit on the back seat.  I mean, you “spoke” to the Driver to keep him awake, with my toddlers in the car?!  Fucking idiot.

Anyhow…. a few chats have recently revealed, The Captain, doesn’t think my “drunken state”, is the right way to talk about HK Life. So…..I am writing this sober… Does any housewife/girlfriend LOVE HK?

I’ll tell you why I suspect not all of you do (and those who do…lucky fucking you. I bet you’re single & out sleeping around. Bitches).  I get told pretty much every time I go out with friends/new people/women, that you hate it here.  It’s always a drunken conversation, but these are not imagined chit chats.  You can’t even put your finger on it. You just don’t like it. How ungrateful are we?

So here’s the coup….

We arrive in HK. 2 months ago. 1 year ago. 5 years ago.  You make friends.  You hate them.  You want new ones.  We get domestic help.  We feel…. redundant.

We like AND hate it at the same time. WHY?  Well…. we are free to go out BUT…..This is our ONE job.  The men go to work, we oversee the house.   We are barely doing that.  We feel redundant.  It makes us feel like shit.  Good times?  I think it IS a shit hole for marriages.  Mine is fine but I hear all sorts of horror stories since we arrived here.  The “grave-yard for marriages”. I thought of Nancy Kissel A LOT when we first moved here.  How SHIT can your life become that you bludgeon your husband to death?  Ok, a shit conversation one night maybe, where he admits to anal sex with a dude in Taiwan… but really…. you kill him?!

I’m telling you… it must have been pretty shit.  There’s never just the one side to any story.  I’m not saying (ever) that she was entitled to do what she did.  I can’t even comprehend sleeping in the same room as a dead body for two days, forget the Father of my three kids….that’s…well, its got be mental illness on some level…eventually… with a good lawyer.  The point is, this place….it’s not good for marriage.  It really isn’t.  Men, change.  They don’t think they do, but they do.  They think they have become GOD (funny how that’s spelt “DOG” the other way around?).

I have spoken to many a housewife who is fed up, bored, and… we have decided one thing…..all of us, moan.  We are not enjoying any bit of this experience.  We are… ungrateful, moany, miserable, credit card spending, pedicured weekly, alcoholics.?  Are we??!

I will tell you what the HK wife is like.

Ungrateful, unappreciative, angry the whole time our husbands work (convinced they are cheating in Wan chai or at some Happy Ending Massage salon you can get back home too). ALWAYS cheating apparently. Some people I speak to actually smirk when I assume my husband is faithful.  They’re like “You dumb bitch, he’s been around the block since he moved here”.

Yes, they have ACTUALLY SAID THIS!  For the record, The Captain has not done  a thing.  He’s ugly and bald.  Unless he was a millionaire no one would wanna touch his penis (not that that would make any difference when you pay for it).  Ok…. I’m kidding. Do I sound like the kind of woman who’d end up with an ugly guy?  He’s not ugly. In fact, he’s annoyingly attractive (“a catch” some would say) and women flirt openly with him in front of me because he’s so fucking brilliant, and, they think they can (which I don’t like).

Actually… this just reminded me of a story.  The Captain and I, about 8 weeks before our wedding, went Cake tasting in a lovely little shop in Putney, SW London.

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The girl who “looked after us” was ALL over The Captain from the minute we arrived in the front door. ALL OVER HIM…. in front of me.  Tight jeans, tight arse, tight top.  The Captain pretended not to notice.  I did, because women always notice.  We would notice because we have, at one time or another, done the same thing.

Anyway, she was too obvious. I mean, embarrassingly so, and actually KISSED him goodbye (on the cheek) when we left.  Me, she shoved out the door with a clenched fist whispering “whore” under her breath in her Irish Gypsy accent.  I, may, I hasten to add, had just been “face-raped”earlier (its the only way to describe it) in Harvey Nichols by an over zealous make-up artist who was trying to impress me with Ghetto/Drag Queen wedding make-up (she didn’t understand the “natural look” I was going for). I did my own in the end anyway as I’m pretty good at that shit.  The point is we turned up, me looking like Bozo The Clown and, the Captain may as well have been Tom Cruise (a straight version obviously).  This woman, the cheeky bitch with chutzpah, flirted openly with my man right in front of me.  What would I do now…?  Probably ask her if she wanted a date just to get a reaction…. cheeky fucking bitch.  My wedding cake tasting… not my “18th birthday, oh we might never stay together”, cake.

This is how confident I must be…. that even with Bozo the Clown make-up on…. I didn’t think for one second, my soon-to-be-husband, was remotely keen. I did think, what a cow!!! At my wedding cake tasting! What a fucking cow actually.  But… nope…. don’t care.

Women are mean.  Men don’t even understand how vindictive, harsh and mean women can be.  That’s why we sometime’s go a little “nuts”.…. we know… when someones trying it on, and your Man is all “Oh, Babe, get a grip. You’re so crazy.”

You’re like…. “Hell no…!”   We on the other hand know, “She’s a woman… we are worse than men.  Oh he’s married?  Who give’s a shit?” Women are worse. Bigger cheats. Bigger players and we look more innocent.  It’s the biggest myth in the book.  Women are bigger players than men…fact.

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Going back to the point of the whole cheating thing…. we begrudge our once best friend of their ideal role here.  They are working, trying to be great at what they do.  I, just feel, well… like a 1980’s housewife.  Drunk, coked up, leaving the kids with a nanny…. and suddenly, not even caring any more.  Thats when you know, its bad.  Thats when you feel guilty.  And we do…. I’ve had soo many conversations about this since I moved here with women at home, who HATE who they have become.

We are not the women we set out to be.  We are, quite frankly… selfish.  I feel so horrible, moaning the whole time the Captain goes out to work.  I feed us, cook for us, I’m a “Homemaker”.  I still hate that I don’t do it right. IF, it was the other way around, I’d be like “Bitch, where the fucks my dinner?!  I work 12-16 hour days…. the least you can do, is fucking feed me, iron my shirts and suck my cock on demand.  Not that tough really….”

It’s not a satisfying role here.  I can’t put my finger on it.  We  (the women) just don’t “do” anything here. We are redundant.  You have too much friggin Help!!!  The guys find it amusing “Oh… my Helper cooked dinner yesterday…”.... we stand there, wondering…. why didn’t I do that?  (if you can’t cook, then that’s fine)?  We are finding it too easy, and yet, very painful/shameful at the same time.  I am using every ounce in my body to accept that for the next few months, I don’t care. I don’t care what anyone thinks.  I never did.

The Captain recently told me.  “You are accomplished.  You are smart. You are funny.  You are sexy.”  So why??? Why?! Do I not, in this environment, feel so great?  Because I have TWO women also helping me in the house.  These women have in effect, chopped my tits off.  I say “Help” but I use this term very loosely.  I think I may actually be sabotaging one of my staff indirectly.

I don’t NEED help.  None of us women here do.  If you are not working, why the fuck can’t you collect your own kids from school?!  I do. its painful.

What are you doing?  Charity stuff??  Ok… some people here are actually using their time wisely and properly (I know them… one is a very dear, straight, non-lesbian friend)… but the rest of us… we’re not doing shit.  We are recovering from hangovers, doing drugs, sleeping late, and basically feeling like over-grown university students, with C-Section scars from The Hotel Matilda.  Shame on us.  This does not make you feel good.  It makes you feel like a fucking idiot here.

Everyone here is either, walking, trekking, dieting, botoxing, raising funds for Cambodia/Vietnam/Tehran, going on 38 hours treks in the wilderness, kayaking, Dragon boating, starting up a new business…… SOMETHING.  When you DONT do this… you look retarded. Especially on the Southside where all the Yummy French Mums are starting up businesses involving …. well… anything you didn’t think of….usually involving pastry or pate (I’m not generalizing or anything).

Who are these women, these “Helpers” with limitless energy when it comes to our kids?  I hate that our children connect with them and at the same time, I’m so grateful.  I’m tired!

My kids are all under three years old.  Do you even know how exhausting that is!?  Not physical… I mean, mentally.  I am the Mum who sits there and says “ Sit up straight. Don’t talk with your mouth full. Don’t hit your friend. Don’t answer back…” G-d the list is endless and very, very boring.  You think I want to do this? Day in, day out?  My shrink told me, I “manage a department“.  “A department!”  Genius.  No one listens to me, it’s all hormonal women with issues who want to kill me, they don’t listen when it comes to feeding the kids, child safety, food shopping, attitude etc.  Sooo….. this evening…. I sat down with Helper No.2 and talked our shit out.  I’m too fed up of it.

We sat in the kitchen and I asked her, straight out, Do you have a problem with me? or us?  “No Ma’am”.  My response? “Ok then, why are you doing such a mediocre job at the moment?  You don’t, food shop, clean well, cooking is ok, you have 2 sometimes 3 hours off during the days for nothing. So… why with all of this, do you insist on walking around with a miserable face that make me sooo uncomfortable in my own house, that I want to sent you out, just to be away from that face?  If you want to leave, fuck off now.  Otherwise, the minute you wake up, treat this like your office and stop walking around like I owe you.”  We’ve got on great ever since.

I hated working for assholes (and boy, did I work for some real racist bitches in London) BUT, I earned good money, I paid my way… I lived how I wanted to live. Facial, yep!  Hot stone massage? Hell yes!! New Christian Louboutins…. yep!  Three or four (or five) kilos of coke for a quiet weekend at home… ok, why not, I’ve got some cupboards that need organising?  It’s your money!!  * Also, the photo above was taken of a lamb before he was dressed and ready for photos.  The problem?  I got drunk and forgot to photograph him (Norbert, The Lamb), before and after cooking.  He was friggin delicious though… all breadcrumbed with nuts and herbs and cooked to perfection… just a shame, I forgot to take a photo after….I was drinking while cooking.  I’ll do it next time as I cook lamb loads.

I’d be fab for a cooking show!?  Before, and ….. AFTER, she gets drunk…

Anyway… I went to Toys R’ Crazy Us today and bought everything they had on sale. Including this kitchen that took nearly 15 hours to put together (the instructions said 15 minutes).  I decided while making the damn thing to open a bottle of Rose.  It are it more fun, for me.

Thats it for this week folks.  I’m running out of shit to say to be honest.

On a separate note, guess how much this packet of Walkers crisps is in HK?

Go on the British ex-pat lot…. guess….

HKD $9-10  depending on where you shop! ….that’s like 75 UK pence for a packet of fucking crisps?!  Plus…. I’m not a chocolate person.  I’m more cheese, ham, crisps, champagne…. This shit costs money in Hong Kong.

What a fucking liberty…

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Travelling again…

So recently we’ve had ALOT of change going on in our home. New baby, twins going to nursery for 3 hours (on their own) three times a week, me not drinking (as much) and generally….I feel like I’m back at square one here.

I’m not going out (blame new baby), not sleeping well (blame new baby), can’t get into any of my old clothes but maternity stuff makes me look like a fat lump (new baby’s fault too)… the list of stuff is endless. PLUS, I’m contending with difficult stuff at home (London) i.e.. a not so well parent kinda puts everything in your life into perspective.  This DOES NOT, however, stop me drinking which the Captain helpfully pointed out when the oven clock chimed 6pm and I ran to grab my daily “evening drink/medicine”.  Hey, the kids were practically in bed and story time is waaaay more fun when Mummy’s had a few drinks….plus I do accents to make the kids laugh!  And, if I pass out before then, well….I’ve got two nannies….who can read Filipino stories.

We decided the best thing to do with alllllll our recent stress was to go away for a long weekend with just the twins.  No help. Yes, you read that right. Not one nanny was in sight…. plus our hotel had a kids club and nanny service on hand which we abused fiercely.  I mean, we’re away on holiday for Christs sake! I need a frigging break from the monotony of my usual life back in HK.

I’m soooo bored of school runs to Tai Tam from one end of the Island to the other, playmates, endless Doctors appointments (the last one consisted of my daughter clinging to my leg while my Son screamed and I was trying to soothe our 8 week old while she got her jabs).  The nurse patted me on the back before throwing me out the surgery.  All those waiting Mums must have thought I was a local Gypsy with all my young, unruly kids, plus my hip flask of neat whisky was hanging loosely in my baby nappy bag next to the wipes for emergencies.  So a trip away was needed but I tend to break out in a cold sweat whenever the Captain suggests a holiday.  Theres just sooo much shit to organise whenever we go away and I’m getting fed up of walking around with a clip board and whistle ticking off everything from swim bands to enough travel toys to stop us going mad on the flight.

Baby number three didn’t have a passport until recently so she wasn’t coming with us.  Our Helper in Hong Kong (who I swear thinks this Child belongs to her, keeps telling me things like “oh she started smiling when you were away”….FUCK OFF).  As long as she doesn’t start calling her “Mum”, I don’t give a shit right now. Anyhow, as her passport hadn’t arrived, B3 had to remain in Hong Kong.  I was therefore mortified to discover the photos the Captain had managed to take with our Helper while I was away, for her first passport.  Thanks to the Captain holding Baby’s head up to capture the photo, his hands managed to stick her ears out in the process.  A LOT.  She now resembles a cuter version of Shrek in her first passport with a halo of light flooding in from behind her head which makes her ears simply look MASSIVE.   Baby number 3, AKA “Forgotten one/Dumbo”, we are so sorry.

baby shrek

Anyhow, The Captain and I took Itchy and Scratchy away for 4 long days to Malaysian Borneo, to a place called Kota Kinabalu (yes, seriously).  We stayed at the lovely Shangri La Rasa Ria Resort and had a wonderful room by the pool (Ocean Wing darling, not the cheaper Garden wing rooms).

So…. after arriving with the least amount of luggage ever (the twins now eat normal food, like pasta and err, pasta, and shit ALOT less than before), we arrived.  We left Hong Kong nearly 3 hours earlier, so I was pretty impressed. The flight over wasn’t even that painful.   I’d forgotten the all important drugs I use to knock the twins (and sometimes The Captain out) but it went ok.

Captain took our Son (Satan) who was actually being a little irritating by licking everything in sight (yes, his shoes too) until he finally passed out (we booked the flights to work with our Gina Ford routine).  Our daughter on the other hand was sat with me on the other side of the aisle and needed constant entertainment.  After giving her stickers (which had a book to stick them all in), she decided it was time to redecorate the entire cabin and there are now Princess stickers all over an Air Asia flight to Kota Kinabalu. I was friggin exhausted by the end of the flight and needed a drink to take the edge off (well, that or a Xanax).  She finally decided to fall asleep as we were landing so was not a happy bunny when I had to wake her and go through customs.

On arriving at our fabulous hotel 45 minutes later, The Shangri-La Rasa Ria, we were all greeted and taken to our amazing suite which had a huge marble bathtub outside our room on the terrace (we took a ground floor suite for safety reasons with 2 crazy liberal toddlers running around).  The toddlers travel cots were made and ready for use along with a toy for each child (Orangutan).

The staff all knew the kids names and the Captain had arranged for a babysitter (selfless fellow that he is) to watch the kids during their belated nap time while we lounged around the pool.  Me in a very unsexy “Mummy Marks & Spencer’s tummy taming swimsuit” and the Captain all toned and missing a baby belly pouch.  What is it with our C-section scar that causes this horrible skin to pop right over it like a bulge?  I used to have a stomach you could bounce coins off.  Now my tummy swallows those coins up and you never see them again (not for long. I’m heading back to Pilates next week).  The lunchtime menu and cocktail list was excellent and daily rose drinking (by The Captain I hasten to add) was essential to stop us being grouchy bastards.  I had strong double Cosmopolitans every time the kids went off for their naps.  Just because I felt like it.

Our time at the Shangri-La was lovely.  We ate well, slept well (bed by 9pm every night!), they had a great Kids Club, swam every day with the kids and went to the Orangutan Sanctuary.

A word to the wise … the Orangutan Sanctuary is not for kids aged 2 years or under, as you walk in 40 degree heat through a jungle (a short walk but still) to watch Orangutans eat their lunch.  Did they perform? Nope because they are meant to be wild.  Therefore the kids barely looked at them for more than a few minutes before my Son (Satan) decided to punch his Dad in the leg continuously and then scream and cry after the Game Keepers had told the entire group that this is when we are meant to be “very quiet”, so the orangutans would come out.

Sure we got a few stares from those annoying arseholes who act like they’ve never seen a child cry (or have really fucking annoying kids who are well-behaved & are usually ginger haired) but after 15 minutes (actually, it was more like 10), the Captain and I left.  Screaming at each other and pouring with sweat as we hot footed it down a path in a jungle carrying our now deliriously hot and crying toddlers back to five-star Shangri-La safety and back to the Kids Club right away.  So fun.

*Photo above of the Kids Club from inside.  This place was very well run and had a little farm outside with Goats, chickens, a play area etc.  The staff were all very well-trained too.  They also had a video room (photo below) for the kids and a different timetable every day with anything from arts and crafts to music.  Anyone under the age of 3 must be accompanied by an adult. So we lied and said the twins were 4 before dumping them and running to the bar (joke).  We actually used a wonderful Nanny who works for the hotel.  She was around 60 years old and had SIX kids at home.  She also could do CPR and deal with anything. So whenever we needed to be alone, in came our lovely Nanny to the rescue.

Anyhow, going back to the story with the Organutan Sanctury ….. Remind me not to do that ever again.

I can’ recall how many times I have specifically told the Captain to do a  site “recce”  before we go somewhere with the kids.  FYI “Recce basically means visiting a location to work out its suitability for the job in hand, including access to necessary facilities and assessment of any potential lighting or sound issues” (* quoted from Wikipedia).  Or in our case, issues relating to our twin toddlers!?  For instance, does a double buggy fit on these roads?  Will the kids like where we are going?  Can I feed them there?  Is it hot or cold?  Will I fucking hate the place?! You get the picture.  Know your audience for fucks sake.  I hate going to shows.  Therefore dont drag me along WITH our toddlers on a boat, train and bus to watch something that will bore us shitless after 2 minutes (I can barely stomach the adverts for Glee).

Men do not think for one second that maybe these issues are important, although mine is learning very quickly.

The Captain once took us on a “pleasant” walk up the road when we first moved to Repulse Bay, Hong Kong, which turned into a 1.5 hour walk with roads disappearing.  We have a twin Out n About buggy and were basically walking in winding roads on the South Side of HK where cars speed into you (the Taxi drivers here are also fucking nuts).  This walk also took place when we were dying with a hangover and the twins were thirsty (they were 8 months old) in 35 degree heat.

I asked The Captain if he had ever done this “pleasant” bullshit so-called 15 minute walk before and he confessed that some arse monkey at work had recommended it.  I asked if this idiot recommender (yes I’m aware it’s not a word) had a twin buggy?  He confessed that “no, he doesn’t have twins” and the guy who recommended this shitty walk had one 2-year-old child.  ONE child who is a toddler is very different to twins who were 8 months at the time.  This same arse monkey suggested to the Captain that we take the twins to the Orangutan sanctuary.  I told the Captain never ever to listen to this twat again.  He clearly has a very advanced child and as there is ONLY one child, its fucking easy between two adults (unless one of you is drunk or incarcerated).

Anyway, going back to the Hotel…. the beach was lovely as you can see from our photos above.  There were lots of sandflies though so make sure you cover up unless you want to develop bites the size of mine (I looked like the Elephant Mans wife by the end of our trip due to my severe allergic reaction to bites).

All the swimming pools were clean, not too cold (I hate that!!) and never felt crowded.  The grounds were beautiful and the restaurants (especially the Buffet meals where kids go free), was very good (I’m not a fan of eat all you want but this was great value!).

I must add, the flight back was fucking horrendous as the kids decided to go insane.  Not only did they climb over seats, cry non-stop, put stickers all over our allocated seats.  Besides all that…. the wouldn’t friggin sleep (which is why they were going mad).  And what did The Captain do during all of this mayhem?  He put his iPad on and started watching “Up All Night” (Christina Applegates new show….friggin hilarious).  It was at that point that I cracked, grabbed his iPad and put on Baby Einsteins which settled the kids very quickly.

Back soon as I’ve got a girls night planned and I’m hoping to get arrested for drunk and reckless behaviour…just like the good old days before I became responsible (ahem).

Are your kids constantly ill, catching coughs, colds, chest infections…?

Since arriving home from the wonderful Matilda Hospital, and somehow surviving the last few weeks on nil sleep…. one thing I keep coming up against is the amount of times my twins are catching colds, chest & ear infections, croup, Roseola…the list goes on and on.  What have I noticed during this non-stop invasion of sickness in our home?  That when my healthy little munchkins go off to school, some arsehole is sending their VERY sick coughing/coldy kid into the same classroom as my 2 year olds.  That child then plays with everything mine do and invariably covers the entire play area in germs… before wiping his nose with his shirt or hand, to stop  the streaming bogies from hitting the floor.

Now WTF??!  Why do some parents think its OK to send their snotty nosed, coughing-up-phlegm, kid to school so they can infect everyone else’s children , and eventually their entire household??  When either of my children are even a little ill, I don’t send them to school to contaminate everyone else.  I keep them home and get them better. Yes, its a pain in the arse to be alone all day doing entertaining stuff with your children but I’d rather they were kept away from the endless germs mine pick up in HK playgroups.  Its really pissing me off.  A sick child must stay at home to recover and get better. NOT dragged out to a playgroup so they can make everyone else’s kids ill too.  Its not fair!!

I may even start naming and shaming on this site (actually forget that, I can’t handle all those ill people coming after me to fight their corner….too many germs floating around).  The point is this.  Since my children began playgroups and nursery, which they really love going to, they have been ill CONSTANTLY.  Yes yes, they’re twins so of course I’m bound to get it harder than some, but now we also have a new baby in the mix and the poor Lamb can be heard sneezing (kinda like a polite mouse) in her Moses Basket.  So now my 6 week old is sick too thanks to the constant germ invasion the schools, nurseries and playgroups like to pass around.

Sick_children : Flu Prevention Poster/Sign

In HK, my kids nursery in Tai Tam, have staff standing at the door taking everyones temperature and spraying sanitizer into everyones hands as we walk in.  Why O why, do they not stop those snotty nosed, eyes streaming with cold, clearly sick to their gills kids?   It is the schools responsibility to tell the parents/nanny to bugger off the minute they show up with a sick child.

Seriously?!  Its driving me mad.   I have written and spoken to the Principal at my twins school about this and yet still, despite letters home to all parents telling them to keep their kids away if they are sick, SOME people KEEP bringing them into school/playroom/parties/the clubs…just to get everyone else sick so we can wallow in their pain of endless nights awake checking temperatures, going to the Doctors and worrying ourselves to death.

We recently went to a 2 year olds birthday party (I drank my way through any booze I saw to numb the pain…despite judgmental glances from some tight arsed Mums) where a Mum from my kids nursery (a repeat offender), had her son basically spreading his germs EVERYWHERE.  Now, the Captain is not the most shy person and he actually turned around very loudly and stated quite clearly (for a cockney accent); “keep the kids away from that boy, he’s very ill”.  This was after her son had been coughing non-stop into my sons mouth.  As they are both only 2 years old, they don’t understand the shit that happens when they get ill ie. Mums life becomes hell.  Anyhow, The Captain then turned to the Mother of this germ infested kid and asked her why she brought him out to a kids party?!  Her response?  Her pearls of wisdom on this topic?  “What am I supposed to do? Keep him in all the time?”.  ERRR….yes you silly fucking selfish bitch.  Thats exactly what you should do so he can recover too.

Now thanks to her, my entire household has come down with an illness, including my 6 week old baby.  I just spent the evening at the Adventist Hospital (both mum & child dressed only in our PJ’s) who are consistently good in my book, and was told my daughter has a severe chest infection which we have to watch over the next day or two, otherwise she will be admitted to stay overnight.  SHES ONLY TWO YEARS OLD!!

(a) I can’t leave my baby alone overnight in a hospital, so I will be staying too, (b) my newborn baby at home has barely seen me these last few days as Im trying to keep the germs away from her, and therefore she has now started calling our Helper “Mamma”, (c) my son also has an ear infection (picked up from his playgroup buddy) and is ill at home. He’s got a bad temper at the moment so we’re all tiptoeing around him and trying to knock him out with drugs until he feels better.  The Captain, is out of the country.  Sooo…after explaining all of this to a Doctor, who I think fell asleep mid explanation, I decided to come home and wait it out. Which means nil sleep for me tonight while I constantly check temperatures on my 3 kids and pray we all make it outta this hell!!

A glass of white wineI cannot wait for the next few weeks to be over, and then I will return to drinking and having some bloody fun if it kills me.  I want nights out with the girls, getting drunk and falling off bars from dancing in my too high heels.  I want to get arrested and call the Captain giggling from  a Chinese Police Station for being so drunk I forgot where I lived and fell asleep in someones tent under the HSBC building in Central.  I want to go dancing in my highest sexiest heels until I can’t dance any more, and I want to fit into my old clothes NOW.  Not in 6 weeks. NOW!!  (nb. the baby weights almost gone. Just 6 more lbs…which are stubborn little bastards to get rid of).  I want to have sleep again, go out drinking until the sun comes up. Sleep all day and order takeaway from my bed.  Why can’t I do any of this??  BECAUSE I HAVE 3 KIDS (4 if you include the man-child Captain).  The guilt alone never lets me stay out past 3am.  But watch this space….

And in the meantime, what will I do next time I see someone at school with a sick child, I will (a) smile politely and strap masks to my kids faces HK style while saying VERY loudly “DO NOT GO ANYWHERE NEAR THOSE INFECTED CHILDREN” or, (b) turn around and have my kids miss a morning of playtime because some Mutha  fkr insisted on bringing her sick kid to playgroup.  I’ll then wage a silent war on this cow which will involve me turning up at her home with all three of my sick children in tow, just to drop something off and infect her entire house.

BEST DOCTORS ON THE SOUTH SIDE & CENTRAL

I would highly recommend going to Dr Thondup at Bank of America Tower for the kids.  He’s an absolute Magician and knows how to interact with any child.  He also gives Injections in a way  that the children have no idea its actually been done.  I wish he would do my shots too!

Dr. Sophia Kennelly is based in Repulse Bay Medical Centre and she is also my favourite GP and is also hugely helpful with the kids too.

For emergencies though, like this evening, The Adventist Hospital is quick and efficient.  Theres rarely been long waiting times there of more than 15 minutes.  I was in and out (with scans too) within an hour.  Heres hoping our home will be free of illness next week! Otherwise, I’m going back on the alcohol wagon ….just to take the edge of this hell.

FAMILY VISITORS

My Mothers words of wisdom to me about the whole sickness debacle, before she headed back to the UK this morning were: “This is real life my Darling, just reeeeelaxxxxx & don’t drink too much”.  I almost punched her which was kinda hard as I was holding her ankles and begging her not to leave me in this hell.  The poor cow has had the worst holiday in HK due to our entire home being ill and my own mum getting a horrendous flu.  She must have been gaging to leave!  The minute her Car arrived to pick her up for the airport, she sprinted to her seat , buckled up faster that Ive seen her move all holiday, while shouting “Go Go Go!!!” in Chinese to the Driver.

Im home from the hospital….lucky me

What can I say?  I’m home.

Tired?  Yep. Dreaming of nothing but sleep & wine?  Yep.  Wondering how the hell I’m going to make it through the next few months…yep, yep, friggin YEPPPPPP!!!  Gina Ford was clearly on acid, or had a night nurse/rich Daddy.

The Captain keeps pointing out that I have “2 domestic helpers”  to assist with the kids. Can I point out that those “helpers” have burnt EVERYTHING, accidentally killed our goldfish “Dorothy” by putting hot water instead of cold in her fish bowl, let both my kids almost drown in Bali (until I jumped into the pool (4 months preg), forgot to turn off the gas, water, lock the doors etc.  Yes… I feel sooo safe leaving my kids with, well, two adults who resemble grown children.  Two Helpers does not a mother make.

For those of you who struggle with (a) guilt, (b) guilt, and (c) guilt for not spending enough time with your family … leaving your kids to helpers just isn’t a 24 hour option. Unless you want a totally spoilt brat for a child (which was not in the IVF/my life brochure), also, I’m fucking strict.  I’ve read sooo many books on parenting that its coming out my arse.

Be strict, don’t be strict, tell them “no”, accept “yes”….bla bla bla.  I recently had my son (aka “Satan”) walk from our car to our apartment without one of his shoes on last weekend (the Captain was repulsed & yet managed to bite his lip, despite his OCD when it comes to “dirt”) because my son insists on taking them off every car journey.  He also has selective language skills. ie. some days English, some days, nothing at all but he can rely on his twin sister to answer for him anytime.   My boy is lazy, manipulative and super bright when he chooses to be.  He also knows how to sort the weak from the strong .  He’s already done it at home with our Helpers and family which means, Im the only one giving him any discipline as everyone else falls for his doey eyed brown long lashes…cheeky genius.  Why do I have no patience with this?  That said, he’s NEVER taken his shoes off in the car since.  I have THREE brothers…. they all did the same thing.  Attention was needed all the time and I was left on the side line.

I’m also surprised at how quickly I fell in love with our new arrival.  I honestly thought that after months of feeling very negative while pregnant (apparently this was due to hormones to test my marriage & all those vows) which I have never EVER experienced, considering I’m a generally unbalanced weekend alcoholic (some days although this book I’m reading has curbed the alcohol. Disturbingly). I was worried I wouldn’t “bond” and would blame our new arrival for, well…. anything.  I read the book “We need to talk about Kevin” when it first can out…. I worried recently that I was going to experience the same shit.  Was I going to really dislike this child?  Did she ruin my life (although I hated HK already)?

I know when you’re pregnant, you’re body does crazy things and you feel tired. Once you give birth, you can feel very alone and absolutely shattered.  I look at the Captain sometimes, begging him to just “stay” with me when he heads off to work.  Something that would never happen were we at home in London. I’m clearly tired and I’m also aware of being on my own. My friends at home…well… they would know to just show up and keep an eye on me (thats having a history for you).   Living abroad is tough.  I dont miss London, but, I miss my girlfriends.

Anyhow, how had I forgotten the sheer exhaustion us new mums feel?  I swear I see rainbows and leprechauns most mornings when I’m feeding our new-born monkey, yes minus acid pills/magic mushrooms/any other pain killer.  I’m knackered at the best of times but now, bloody hell!!  I can’t even speak or leave the house, just because that would involve interacting with the outside world while I look like total and utter shite.  Tracksuit bottoms and X large T-Shirts are my wardrobe.

I dont want to brush my hair (good thing I got that Brazilian blow-dry on Groupon before I gave birth), I would like to brush my teeth (Captain insists on that one due to halitosis that has suddenly appeared), I dont want to get changed out of my maternity Winnie the Pooh night-dress (the only thing that fits me and, well lets face it, it’s fucking comfortable).  Also, I had a C section which means, I’m in AGONY at the mo.   Even with the drugs, which, if I’m honest, are not like the ones I could get in the UK, it’s not enough.  I think they regulate stuff here 😦  I’m tired, angry, twitchy (which means I want to fight non stop), nothing fits me (ie. maternity wear is too big and my old clothes too tight).  It’s really depressing.  I don’t know what I expected this time round but… well…. I expected to sleep & …. quick weight loss at least!

Too posh to push you think? Nope. Too terrified is more like it and as nature would kindly have it, if I were to attempt birth via the usual, alleged natural, route, I would be wearing sexy incontinence pants forever (stick that in your judgemental pipe and smoke it “Miss I want kids naturally. Why don’t you?”).  I’ve had discussions with some really annoying people who have asked me “why not give birth naturally?”

These are the same annoying people who want to give birth in a swimming pool with dolphins and sing songs about love every night to their newborn while sharing beds 24 hours a day, as well as saliva.  Fuck off!!  Errrr…. hello!  You’re the same women, BEGGING for an epidural when the reality of pain hits you!!  Miss “I want to do this naturally”, is suddenly, “Miss Give me everything you’ve got” when the shit hits the fan. Yes, I’m going to judge you. Cheeky sods.  Stop telling me what to do. It really annoys me…and, I’m sorry, BUT, you don’t make better mothers. You don’t. In fact, you’re the annoying one’s I’m praying my son doesn’t knock up.  That’ll be an interesting conversation as no one even knows how the THE CAPTAIN will respond. I’m, for the record…. NORMAL.

Seriously, how does anyone have the right to ask you how you chose to give birth? SERIOUSLY? How judgemental are you to ask?  And… really …. just piss off.  If I wanted to give birth in a cave, in Pok Fu Lam, (West HK – dont think there are any?!), with a yogi as my guide and a Domestic Helper to pull the baby out, who are YOU to tell me thats not right?  I swear, it’s driving me mad how EVERYONE has an opinion on what you should do and when you should do it.  Because their way is clearly the right way?  No it isn’t!! Nothing in life is the right way.  Just do it your way.  Always.  Fuck everyone else. They know sod all in any event.

What do I miss about my pregnancy?  Zilch, nil, bubcus, zero, niente… nothing!!   If you mean, do I miss feeling like a fat cow and arguing non-stop with my husband because I was being, and I quote, “disgusting”, then nope. I dont miss one second of this pregnancy.  The Captain told me I was a different person. Not something you want to hear when you’re going through a shitty phase as it is. If only men knew how SHIT it could be.  It’s a weird kinda life where you don’t care who you are anymore. Very odd.

What do I miss post baby?  The Matilda Hospital, AKA, the Four Seasons for new Mums everywhere.  This Hospital AKA “Hotel”, should be in every country.

I swear all mums should go and spend a week somewhere like the Matilda.  Somewhere where you order your meals, they take the baby away for feeding, and you get to sleep.  Ahhh… I was devastated when I left (as was the Captain when he picked up the worlds BIGGEST medical bill). Also, I met some lovely people by default.. especially the nurses.  There was ONE night nurse who quickly became my have.  This woman would turn up and offer me legal drugs without judgement. I LOVED her.  Some nurses do judge but not this one.  I have about 5 photos with her when I left.  Everyone thought mine was the crazy “tidy” room (I’m super tidy).  People would walk in and be like “Have you been cleaning?”…yes…I’m ashamed to say, I put my shoes away in a cupboard with my jacket and I put my stuff away.  How messy are you people?!  Seriously!!?

It’s no wonder the rich and famous have their kids there.  I’m neither but, its where us ex-pats have our kids dahling. Who am I to argue with that?  On arriving at the Hotel Matilda, we were given a menu on which room options I had for my 5 night package.  If I shared with 2 or 4 others, well, the bill would have been much smaller. BUT, the Captain, being the big girls blouse that he is (i wouldn’t have argued actually), said “No. You have your own room as I wouldn’t want to share”. I buttoned my lip there and then, looked at the twins and thought, “yeh…fuck it! I’m tired””. Also, I’m alone.  I felt that this time round, even with wonderful friends turning up to show me some love.  I felt sad. I wanted my friends from home and my Mum.  I’m clearly quite simple.

Let me give you an example of what I was missing after leaving …. view photos below before I continue my wonderful tale.

And photo number 2 of my wonderful bedroom.

And err…number 3…my club sandwich during lunch. What a wondrous, fabulous place this Matilda is…

The photo below is a my view from my BALCONY (hahahaaaaaa) at night.  I was in bed by 9pm most nights.  Bloody amazing.

The above is a daytime view which was sometimes sooo cloudy, you couldn’t see bugger all.  I didn’t care though… I was staying at the Matilda Hospital (& the now very poor Captain has the bills to prove it!) That said, people who live in the Peak must be walking around on clouds (literally).  The roads are windy, the views obscured by clouds and well, you’re miles away from anything.  Then again, I hate leaving the house if I can help it, so maybe it just felt that way.  Plus the morphine and various drugs helped me forget a lot of things.  Everyone, en route up to La Matilda (Le/La…I’m not sure which?), was walking a dog and had a Rolex.  RICH.

Anyhow, hopefully, you get the picture.  I spent 5 days in absolute Mummy Heaven (in fact, that sounds like a club I used to go to in Kings Cross where you did pills I couldn’t handle and went home in a cab you were afraid of).  Good times.  HK…I’m still not in love with it BUT, I will say this.  I’m now 35 (yes, old goat), and I still feel 25. I have 3 kids and thankfully a bloke I love.  He understands me and I LOVE THAT.

Baby No.3  WELCOME.

MATILDA.  YOU ARE WONDERFUL.

Legal drugs. Even better.  Nurses who don’t judge… you are my favourites.

ps. The Matilda… I lied when I said I needed more morphine.

3 days until I give birth at Hotel Matilda

How fucking exciting.  Oh and its the year of the Dragon which is hugely lucky in China (I was also born in the year of the Dragon but do not consider myself a lucky person).

BTW.. The photo above scared the crap out of my 2 year olds (as well as The Captain & I) when we popped downstairs to show them some “culture” on Chinese New year.  Even now, the Captain keeps waking, screaming, “man with a mask!! man with a mask!!”

Anyhow… I can’t wait to start Gina Ford all over again and am soooo looking forward to the sleepless days/nights, 3 hourly feeds, nap times, endless bottles, nappies filled with various colours of shit (yellow being my least favourite, along with the ones that keep on coming while you’re mid nappy change & resemble sausages).  And the lack of sleep!  Ahh… boy can’t I wait to walk around like a crazy, tired, unkempt Mum, dyyyyying to sleep…anywhere.  PLUS, my 2-year-old Twins have NO idea that life as they know it is soon going to change.  Yes, I’m so excited.  The excitement is seeping out of my every pore.

What will be my first port of call on having given birth?  A romantic dinner for two with The Captain?  Time alone with Itchy and Scratchy reading books and cuddling?  No. Sorry.  It turns out I’m a selfish bitch.  All I want, aside from a healthy child, is a big bottle of champagne (with a straw) just for me and maybe a quick call to the local dealer for a few ounces of class A’s.   Hey…I’m celebrating starting all over again and I need to do some things properly.  Not just that but after a year of non-stop Pilates, that body has now been beaten to shit and resembles a 50-year-old Northern pub Landlandys body after one too many Friday night Fish n Chips.  Depressing?  Hell yes.

Why lie and say “I’m sooo excited and screw what I look like?”   The truth is, I’ve found it pretty depressing looking more and more like a bag of lard as the months have rolled on.  No, I havent gained as much weight as I did with the twins (2.5 stone to be exact) but still, I personally find it hard going when the weight piles on without much effort.  Vain?  Yes, but I don’t care.  I’m a woman for fucks sake!   We are vain to a certain extent….unless you’re a raging lesbo with a crew cut and moustache (yeh, whatever, I’m generalizing).  I hate that I can’t bend down to put my shoes on, hence why I now live in my wooly sock Uggs.  I hate that my skin keeps getting breakouts (I’ve never had bad skin, EVER) and resembles a 13-year-old zit covered boys (minus stubble).  I hate that when I look in the mirror, a different person is looking back at me.  Pregnant women are beautiful?  Whoever said that is clearly a chubby chaser as I am not feeling one ounce of sexy or beauty.  In fact, I look and feel like total shit.  AND, for those women who ARE pregnant and swaning around the place looking all wonderful….please fuck off.  You are really annoying me.  AND stop showing me your flat bellies?!!! Why would you do this to someone who is clearly pregnant and suffering mentally!?

Excited about the new arrival?  Sure, once she’s here, I’ll be fine but until then, I’m going to keep moaning and boring the crap out of everyone.   I mean, I’m sooo bored, I can’t even be bothered to watch the Kardashians on E! Hollywood, go for a walk (apparently good for you when pregnant although I didn’t do this last time either), entertain myself with belly flops in the swimming pool, or even leave the apartment.  Hmmm…. maybe I’m depressed?   Nope.   I think I’m just missing being a drunken, happy, skinny Mum.  Now, I’m soooo huge, I can only wear stretchy tracksuit bottoms, bras that are 8 sizes bigger (The Captain is not complaining about the huge boobs though…surprise surprise)… the huge list on how unattractive I feel right now is endless.  The poor Captain keeps saying “I want my Wife back!” while I’m covered in sexy spot cream, looking like the grim reaper.  Oh, and just to add insult to injury, do you want to know what my supportive better half did a few weeks ago?  He RECORDED me snoring, then PLAYED it to his work colleague.  He then emailed me a link to this monstrosity, stating, “I think there was a Rhino in the bed last night?”  Supportive git.  I beat him with a wooden spoon that night.

Ok, so, another part of my character that has developed since I fell pregnant (and which I’ve mentioned in past posts), is that I’m angry.  Now, I don’t mean a “little angry”, I’m talking, fly off the handle, screaming, swearing like a mother fucker trucker, ANGRY.  I get sooo angry over things that all I want to do is shout, OR, cry.  Yes, the crying is also there. I can break out in tears at any given minute, even while shouting, eating three triple Big Mac & having chocolate… all at the same time (because I can multi-task).  The ONLY time, I’m still me (albeit a boring version as I’m sober), is when I’m with my little munchkins, Itchy & Scratchy.  They are the only ones keeping me sane.  Ok, so they don’t get they’re going to have a new sister but it’ll keep me entertained for a while, watching them interact with their new sibling.  Especially once I crack open that first bottle of white wine….

Roll on next week as Yummy Mamma is about to return ….. and she deeply misses her booze & skinny jeans.

POSITION OF THE WEEK – BELOW

I would call this one “Having a few too many on a Friday night…& inviting others for a “menage a quatre”.  Don’t ask me what the blue bunny is doing but it looks to me like the Tasmanian Devil instigated the whole thing.

Stresssssssss

Four weeks to go until the baby arrives and what am I doing? I’m moving apartments in 3 days to add to the stress as I clearly have too much time on my hands.  Not only that but the twins as well as our useless Domestic Helper (no.1, of our now 2 home employees) have come down with colds (well she gave it to the twins which really pisses me off).  Sooo, I’ve been packing boxes, sneezing from dust that appears everywhere, dealing with twins who wont sleep during the night as they are both bunged up with mucus (yes, I have slanted both their mattresses at an angle to help them breathe easier). 

All i keep thinking about is how much I can’t WAIT to stay at The Hotel Matilda ( AKA. Matilda Hospital at The Peak in Hong Kong).  I have already told family to stay away for the first month so I can recover and I’m actually looking forward to staying in the hospital to escape everything/one for a few days.  I need some SPACE!  I’m actually going mad not being able to drink with all this stress going on.  I’ve even started reading a book on HOW TO QUIT ALCOHOL (yes, yes I’m clearly  depressed) just because I’m worried that my drinking will return with a vengeance once this baby arrives.  I don’t know how else to remain sane otherwise doing the same thing day in, day out.  I managed to quit Smoking after being a 20 a day Silk Cut addict for over 10 years.  I never went anywhere without 2 packs in my handbag, especially if I was going out drinking with the girls after work.   When I read Alan Car’s book “The Easy Way to Stop Smoking”, I just thought I’d try it out for a laugh.  It was my final year at University and a friend recommended it to me. Well….. after reading his book, which basically tends to repeat regularly about the cons of smoking, despite encouraging you to smoke throughout, I quit smoking.  And didn’t miss it one bit.  Not even a craving.  Genius!

So when I mentioned to that Captain that I am reading a revolutionary “Stop Drinking” type book, he looked at me with worry.  Despite his moaning and hopes of controlling my substance abuse, I think he quite likes me being that crazy fun outgoing party girl, just to a certain degree (ie. he’d like me to stop when I approach the “falling over stage”).  I explained that as I may go nuts after giving birth to this third child, especially if I’m stuck indoors all day doing Gina Ford routines and having no sleep.  Someone asked me recently if I’ll breastfeed and I told them that “no, I wont be”.  It interferes with my entire life (drinking/going out/exercise/sleep/etc) and I can’t be stuck indoors for months boob feeding when I can bottle it and go out.  It didn’t harm the twins, so hopefully it wont harm Baby no.3, although our food and Baby Milk Formula costs will reach new heights once she comes along.

In addition, for those of you who do your food shopping in Hong Kong, you will be fully aware of the cost of milk, nappies, food, anything!!!  Everything costs triple what it does in London.  The Captain keeps moaning about lack of food, bread, cheese etc in our house.  The fact of the matter is, we go food shopping every 3 days and keep running out of stuff.  Plus our two Helpers can’t seem to work out that maybe they should purchase other things we need when they pop out, rather than get home and say “Oh sorry, we need Washing up liquid and eggs”.  I’m starting to lose my cool with them as I can’t understand how a person doesn’t think to put that sort of thing on a list.  I always go through the shopping list with them before one of them heads out the door and I’ll ask if there’s anything else we need.  The response is always “no we have everything”. But lo and behold, the next day we will need a whole batch of crap.  The kids are also addicted to yogurt and cheese which means buying these every 2 friggin days.

The Captain also complains about the quality of things we buy from the Supermarket but as I explained, if we go local, our shopping bills would be minimal, but I’ve no interest in eating local food or produce.  I want nice Juice, Cheese, Organic fish/Meat and Organic spreads. But this all costs double the amount.  Why can’t we just have a bloody Tesco here like back home!??  They even have one in shitty Thailand for crying out loud!!  Thailand also has Boots which I wish we had in HK.  It would piss all over Mannings and Watsons!

Anyhow, the Captain has also started a new line of non-stop moaning about the toilet tissue we buy, despite me explaining its only to wipe his precious arse with (plus I buy 2 for the price of 1).  His argument is that as he “works so bloody hard”, he wants something soft, ideally with Aloe Vera and quilted too, to gently wipe his bum (which is a non-stop farting machine all year round) ….I handed him our wedding certificate.

Photo taken from the site – http://www.porcelainpoetry.faketrix.com/

FIVE weeks to go…

Yes yes yes….. I’ve been slack and not written one g-d darn word in aaaages.  If I wasn’t so fat and pregnant, I might actually care, but to be honest, I’ve been too friggin exhausted.  I actually think my kids are trying to kill me with lack of sleep too.  Plus my now 34 week belly seems to hold a massive party around midnight until 5 am when the baby kicks, dances, punches and hiccups allllllll night.  

I’m not walking around “glowing” in floaty Laura Ashley type dress which The Captain finds sooo unattractive anyway.  No. I’m running around, exhausted, screaming at The Captain and anything else that moves.  My daughter actually pointed to my stomach yesterday and said the words “Teletubby” before imitating their dance, which in hindsight resembles a waddle (like mine at the moment).  What did I do?  Burst into tears because the hormones that are raging in my body during this pregnancy are shocking.  I’ve never been one to just burst into tears openly but here I am, blubbing away at anything. 

Anyhow, this is just a quickie but I hope all your Christmases/holidays/New years were great.

Mine involved travelling to Phuket (again) for a 2 week “break” (I use that term loosely) with the family.  Yes, I still hold a huge dislike for Thailand but I never seem to win the “I FUCKING HATE THAT PLACE!” argument with the Captain.  I’m now starting to accept he has selective hearing … kinda like our Domestic Helper who chooses not to hear us when we ask her to do something that involves actual work.  

Why do I hate Thailand, and yes, I appreciate I am probably one of only a few people in the whole world that does?  Well, its shit.  Its dirty. The weathers unreliable.  I’ve had very limited decent dining experiences there (unlike Bali which is fabulous), and it just seems sooo over.  I’m afraid I’m Thailand-ist.  I just don’t love the place.  Also, packing for holidays with the kids has now become a horrendous job.  I’m soo over traveling at the moment.  I just don’t have the energy.

I spent most of my joyous Christmas “break” feeling sick, dizzy and hiding during the day in our air-conditioned villa, kinda like a Vampire.  If Alcide Herveaux & Eric Northman where there from True Blood, I wouldn’t have had an issue …I’d stay there day & night just to gawk at their man parts.  

I mean this mans body cannot be for real!?  The Captain assures me that if he too had a personal trainer (he does), time to work out (he does, albeit not during the week as one of us has to pay the bills), a strict diet with a cook (we now have one of those too, AKA, the new second Helper who “can follow recipes”), he too would look like a chiseled warewolf/Vampire.

Anyhow, back to my story, I was in fact soo ill that when we did go out for dinner with some friends, I had to leave the meal half way through and run out of the restaurant where I was violently sick, first in my Pashmina and then in their bushes right outside the front door.  What a great advert for that particular establishment eh? A big Teletubby pregnant bird puking her guts up right outside.  As I said, I HATE Thailand.  

New Years Eve was even less eventful with us heading back to the villa by 9.30m … despite the Captains pleas to stay out for longer, with annoying statements like “this is the first NYE I’ve not gone out and got off my head”.   Errr..yeh, because I LOVE to stay in when I can be out getting drunk and partying?!   So after swiftly kicking him in the ball-sack and explaining that “I AM PREGNANT & THEREFORE  AN ANGRY BITCH ALL THE TIME”, he got a clue and ordered our Tuk tuk home.  Even with all his wining and moaning about how he couldn’t believe we were going home before midnight, the man was faaaaaast asleep by 10pm in a deep carbohydrate/700g steak/red wine coma.

SOOO HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL!   I promise to be back writing with a vengeance and my usual bitchiness once I pop this disco queen out of my vagina.  Actually I’m having a C-section …. that whole pushing thing is far too frightful for me darling.

 
* Images taken from http://trueblood.wikia.com/wiki/Category:Character_Galleries & Pregnant Image from following link – https://d27fcql9yjk2c0.cloudfront.net/assets/814206/lightbox/811412b8595a682aa9bb1fb27f37377b.jpg?1277153381