Random

I'm in Buffalo, NY right now at an internet cafe. There were no appointments available until August in Manhattan for me to do my fingerprinting for my UK entry. So I flew to Buffalo to get fingerprinted. It took 15 minutes. Then I had 5 hours until my return flight.

It's really depressing here. At least everyone smiles on the street at you and the people generally seem like they're in a good mood. But WHY?

There's NOTHING going on here. I walked all over the downtown area and most of the shops were boarded up. There's a handful of sports bars, a few restaurants, one Starbucks and this nice little internet cafe I found called The Spot.

Other than that................

I'm glad I'm heading home soon. Well "home" to me right now means the Grand Hyatt Hotel in NYC. But at least my mom will be waiting for me so that makes it home.

Last Day in The Kong

Here I sit on my last day in Hong Kong. Typing on a computer at my fancy, caucasian-dominated gym as my home internet was turned off today.

I've had quite the love/hate relationship with Hong Kong. As many expats have in the past and will in the future.

I hate the humidity. I love the rainstorms.

I hate how meek the people are - show some balls! I love how polite they are no matter how frustrated I would get with them.

I hate all of the stairs. I love the escalator.

I hate that there's no culture here. I love meeting people from all over the world.

I hate that the Asian chicks steal all of the cute white boys. There's no upside to this one.

I hate how slow all of the people walk because they're so short. I love being taller than everyone.

I hate most Chinese food. I love how there are more restaurants per person in Hong Kong than anywhere else in the world.

I hate that it's such a transient city which makes it impossible to maintain any long-term relationships. I love that because it's a transient city it's so easy to meet people.

I hate that there are no good parks. I love the hiking trails, beaches and camp sites.

I hate the Type A, work hard/play hard lifestyle. I love the Type A, work hard/play hard lifestyle.

I hate that you can't find any clothes in a size 8 or larger. I love that I lost weight just so I could fit into the clothes.

I hate that there are no Target stores here. I love the old man at the top of Peel St. that's been selling and fixing umbrellas at his little stand for over 50 years.

I hate that I'm so far away from my family. I love that I'm so close to so many interesting travel destinations.

I hate that I'm leaving so soon. I love that I'm finally leaving.

Now...it's time to hit the elliptical.

Hilar

I just busted out laughing because I typed a blog post two minutes ago specifying that I want a job where I'm challenged and have to use my brain.

Then I realized I need to make a work call for my current job and a wave of disgust washed over me because I thought, "Uh...I'm going to have to THINK during this call. [SIGH]" And I immediately started thinking, "What else could I do to put off having to make this call?"

Then I busted out laughing at how pathetic and lazy I've become.

I need a real job. Fast.

Perfect job

I miss working in an office that's bustling with energy where I have co-worker friends and we talk and bitch and stuff. And there's like...a project or something...and everyone is brainstorming and working hard to try and make it better. And I'm an important part of that team and my co-workers will ask questions like, "Stacey, what do you think?" and "Stacey, do you want to go to that same sandwich place for lunch today or do you wanna try something new?"

When I had jobs like this in the past I would find reasons why I hated them and wished I had a job where I hardly had to work and could work from home in my pajamas. Which is what I have now.

Why do I always want what I don't have??? What's the perfect job? Someone please tell me and I'll tweak my resume so it seems like I'm qualified for it.

I need a job where I'm autonomous but have an office to go to. But I don't have to go to the office unless I want/need to. Except sometimes there should be meetings so I have a sense of purpose and can feel like I'm a responsible part of a team and shit. I have to work hard but I like what I'm doing for the most part so that's okay. I like to work hard as long as there's a sense of accomplishment.

I shouldn't have to answers phones. At all. I get to boss at least 3 people around and they do all the piddly stuff I don't want to do and they think I'm fabulous. I should only have to answer to 1 person and he is hot and thinks I'm fabulous and gives me raises every 6 months.

My co-workers will be mostly straight men who flirt with me but who also respect my work. They have lots of single male friends that they'd like to set me up with. There are hardly any women in the office so there's no catty bullshit I have to deal with. The women that do work there aren't as cute as me.

I should get paid every 2 weeks. Not the 15th and last day of the month but every 2 weeks so I get a couple months out of the year where it happens that I get 3 paychecks because of the way the dates work out.

I should be able to wear whatever I want when I do decide to grace the office with my presence but everyone I work with is pretty fashion conscience so it inspires me to dress nicely.

This job should be impressive or at least mildly interesting to most people when I tell them what I do for a living. It should pay me at least $75k per year.

And there should be a nap room at the office in case I need a little rest.

Any ideas?

Baby Fat vs. Body Fat

I was at the gym yesterday and this woman on the ellipti-girly machine next to me was the fuuuuuh-reakist worker-outer I've ever seen!

She was pumping her arms like crazy. I thought, "I bet she's picturing her cheating ex-husband is standing in front of her or something." She was grunting out loud too which is so annoying to me. I'm like...alriiiight, alriiiiight. We get it. You're working out. Now shut the fuck up and let me workout too - in peace.

The worst thing though was she had pulled her t-shirt up to her bra line. And the t-shirt was able to just sit up there because it was resting on her HUGE gut! And she wasn't pregnant!

It's become acceptable to have your belly hanging out if you happen to be pregnant and I agree that is okay because it's something to be proud of and happy about and it's a beautiful, miraculous event. Celebrate it! Show it off!

But BODY FAT?!?! Nonononononononono. NOBODY wants to see that! I was so bothered by this girl's pasty white gut bouncing up and down and aggressive elliptical style that I had to pick the machine farthest from her so I wouldn't have her in my peripheral vision and her grunting in my right ear. Then of course my DVD player didn't work so I had to get on the one right next to her. I listed to my DVD really loudly and stared straight ahead and it all worked out fine (pun intended).

Having fat and going to the gym to workout is great. Go for it. But I don't want to see it jiggling and sweating everywhere.

I must admit though it was a great motivator for me to work my ass off so I don't end up looking like her. Sorry. That was mean...but it what I was thinking.

Funny Dancer? FUNNY Dancer?!?!?!

Last night we took a friend of ours out to wish him well because he's moving to Singapore. He requested a "relaxing evening" so naturally we spent the night club hopping, destroying ourselves with alcohol then attempting to repair the 6 hours of damage by inhaling cheap chicken sandwiches before eventually crawling home.

It's all one guy's fault who bought us tequila and tabasco shots ("TT's" if you will). I must admit it was a genius move to have the tabasco sauce in the bottom of the glass. Replaced one stinging sensation with another.





















From that point forward the night went into overdrive. We found out today that we were "that group of people bouncing up and down" at this bar Tivo. I was in my dance zone and therefore oblivious to how obnoxious we must have been to everyone else. That's the beauty (and purpose) of guzzling so much alcohol I suppose. If I don't SEE the horrified looks on people's faces then they don't exist.

After Tivo we went to a dance club called Drop which is normally tough to get into but we had a chick with us who's a DJ so we were deemed worthy enough (just barely judging by the look on the reluctant doorgirl's face) and granted entrance.

Wanting to make the most of my temporary admittance into the cool people's party I whipped out some of my best dance moves and even created some new ones. Hour after hour I remained committed to finessing the Art of the Club Dance despite the fact that my stubborn 80-year old knees were putting up a fight the entire time. Once I get going NOTHING can stop my dancing! Not knee pain...not ripping a hole in my $400 dress...not a bouncer turning on the lights, grabbing my arm and saying, "Seriously sweetie...it's time to go." Nothing.

The reason I'm SO dedicated to my craft is that after a few drinks my ego convinces me that I am a So-You-Think-You-Can-Dance-worthy dancer. And I would never want to disappoint my fans so I make sure the show goes alllll night loooooong.

At 3pm today I was finally able to roll my poisoned body the 10 feet from my bed to my couch so I could begin piecing together the blur of events that was the night before. To begin my investigation I read an email from the DJ chick who was with us and she said,

"Stacey - you have the funniest dance moves. Good stuff!"

.....................WhatchootalkinboutWillis?

I'm not a FUNNY dancer!!! I'm a cooooooool dancer!!!

So today I was quickly fed a piece humble crumble pie as my hangover meal (it had a little too much cinnamon and reality but otherwise tasted good).

Well, WHATEVER type of dancer I am I think it's necessary for the soul to dance as much as possible in life. No matter what you look like. It makes you feel good! So get off the couch, play a song that inspires you and shake that ass!

I Showered with a Cockroach

Unfortunately, this blog post's title isn't a cute play on words.

I literally showered with a cockroach today.

Hong Kong's bug of choice is the VERY large cockroach. I've killed about 6 in the past 6 weeks in my apartment. It's so disgusting and it doesn't get any easier the more kills I rack up. And as soon as I feel safe again and think, "Huh. I haven't seen one in awhile. Maybe cockroach season is over?" another one shows up in the weirdest place scaring the shit out of me (my most favorite place was the tray in my washing machine where I pour my detergent).

I spray about 1/2 can of Raid on each one. Not unlike someone with a gun who freaks out and shoots someone 27 times even though 1 or 2 bullets would probably do the trick. I admit that screaming, "DIE YOU MOTHERFUCKERRRRRRRRRR!" is probably a bit dramatic (and not so fun for my old Chinese neighbors) but it's necessary. After he's wiggled his last wiggle I slowly work up the courage to transfer him to a trash can. This takes at least 10-15 minutes. I've determined that using a file folder to pick them up is best as it's thin enough to scoop him up and unlike a wad of papertowels there's absolutely no chance my fingers will have to feel his freshly dead carcass. Plus, that's more "green" of me anyway, right? Why waste 20 papertowels on one cockroach? I'm so dedicated.

The latest fucker to invade my space was in my bathroom sink the other night. I sprayed the Raid but he crawled into a crack in the sink somewhere and I couldn't get to him. Plus, the light bulbs are out in my bathroom so I couldn't see anything.

I hadn't seen him since but everytime I'd go in my bathroom I was watching... waiting...

Then today I go into the shower - which is about 5 feet long by 3 feet wide - and I did a cockroach check before I entered and didn't see him (remember it's dark in there right now).

Then about halfway through my exfoliation phase I looked in the back corner and saw a suspicious, black object! Fucker! He was dead so I guess I got enough Raid on him to cause a slow, agonizing death. Good.

I thought the sanitary thing to do is of course to stop my shower and get rid of him but I was running late for a dinner and since he was in the half of the shower that the water doesn't even reach and I never have to step into (it's a huge shower) I just left him there while I finished showering.

I know this is a totally disgusting story and I have no idea what it says about me that I share these tidbits of my life. But there it is...

I showered with a cockroach today.

P.S. Sorry for the photo but I feel it aids the story in fully illustrating my ordeal.

UPDATE: There was ANOTHER ONE in my shower this morning! And he was alive!!! I'm so over this shit! Get me out of here!

Scary Haha

This morning I rolled out of bed and went to the fridge. I grabbed my water bottle. Then I opened the cabinet and grabbed a cereal bowl. Next, I MEANT to grab my box of cereal and pour it into the bowl but instead...

I opened the bottle of water and filled the bowl with water. Filled the entire bowl before I realized that this wasn't something I was supposed to be doing. So, like a dog, I had a bowl of water and a bowl of food for breakfast this morning. I didn't go so far as to sip the water from my bowl with quick slurps of my tongue as I thought that might be taking it a bit far.

I definitely take after my dad. It's not scary-oh-my-god but more scary-haha to me.

Need more sleepy!