So…. I am a HUGE hater of bullying.
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.
I 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?!
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.”
- 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
- 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…
- 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.
- 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!).
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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…
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.
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/
I’ve decided to do a weekly post on Sexual Positions for all of you wanting to add some spice to your lives. I’ll work my way through the Kama Sutra using, Mickey & Minnie Mouse, considered sacrilege by my Daughter whose a HUGE fan of the Mouses…but not to worry, I used Milton Wipes to clean them after. Outfits are optional.
I don’t think step-by-step instructions will be necessary but feel free to email if you need anything explained.
The “I’m pleasuring him with my nose” pose.