Two in one week

He takes lessons - he must. It's the only way I can logically explain to myself how Justice has become so annoying. When I go to work he's probably logging onto my computer and listening to podcasts or something on how to annoy the living shit out of me from the moment I get home to the moment I escape his reign of terror in the morning.

One day, while rummaging through old boxes or cleaning the dust bunnies from underneath the bed (like I'll ever do that) I'll find little kitten notes on how to be a menace and drive your owner who rescued you from the soi with an eye infection and worms into madness.

Technologically, this has been a bad week. My net went down, my cable didn't work and I left the air on for an entire day, which I realise is more a brain problem than some kind of conspiracy in the Matrix. Those removalists also stole some of my books and a bunch of inane things (bathroom shelves, goggles, ESL books - wtf?) from my old apartment while they were moving me here. I hate them for it and doubt karma can ever rectify this situation but I'm powerless. Oh thank you, universe, for teaching me this important lesson, whatever it is.

More soon...

Rabbits Rise Up

[note to designer: put pic here]

I daren't publish those words, but there they are - the rabbit is on the rise. My new job at Agoda is like my new husband in a parallel universe where husbands are devastatingly handsome, emotionally intelligent yet logical, suited up like Barney from How I Met Your Mother, cashed up and open-minded enough to let you do whatever you want on the weekends, including kiss adorabuhl 20-something hybrid Thais with cute haircuts and debilitating alcohol intolerances. For example.

I have a new apartment, which is as I type, being furnished via removalist power. I am literally sitting here typing while they're doing the grunt work - and the fat one was actually grunting quite a lot. I don't care, because they've taken all fucking afternoon to do a three-hour job. Enough to invoke from me a 'This Is Thailand' (or TIT, for brevity) eyeroll.

So, all sectors are showing signs of improvement. I have non-bitchy internet now, and cable (as soon as they grunt upstairs with the TV, like it's made of lead and the stairs somehow have super gravity). Yet all I can think about is sleep, the shit thing about that being that half of my bed isn't here yet and I still have to mantle it (having dismantled it this morning), so sleep is some way off.

Ceiling cat (Justice's new name since he fell through the ceiling of the loft the other week - which was as funny in actuality as it sounds) is still at the old apartment. I'm tempted to leave him there because this is so nice just typing away without constant harassment. I'm actually more serious about that than is nice. I will get him, of course. There's always the option of throwing him from the moving cab if I change my mind on my way back here. He's already survived crashing two storeys through a plaster ceiling tile - onto what else but my computer - without suffering any mental or physical damage, so he'd be OK. He's like that dumb blob from Monsters vs Aliens, only dumber and more gelatinous.

More news.... hm. Nothing. Agoda is like my life now, which is odd, but everyone there is really prop-worthy. Sometimes I feel like I need three more arms, an extra frontal lobe and a time machine to actually accomplish all that's being requested of me, but this is a good thing. And added bonus: I don't have to have meetings with anyone's parents - EVER!

Well, I have to away and put my bed together then subsequently perish upon it. I'm so tired I've almost achieved full consciousness - not something the doctor can write on a sick note tomorrow. Not that I'd want to disappoint my new husband. He has a big beer park at the front of him from now until sometime next year, which is another reason why we are meant for each other.

More next week, hopefully, if I'm not moving again, or still unpacking.

tschuss!

* hybrid - half-caste hot person

Open Letter – The Sequel

Many years ago, I wrote an open letter to Bangkok drawing attention to a few things that were chaffing my ass about it. This included slow walkers, queue jumpers, gross old men and other annoying lifeforms that make BKK look like the Galapagos Islands of jerks.

Lately, I'm kind of stressed from works (I currently have four different sources of employment, none of which I'm not putting enough effort into) and my pain-body wants to aks some questions – some unfairly based upon race. And remember, it's not me saying this, it's my pain-body.

To the Aussies: why are you all so big? You're enormous. You're hitting your heads on those dangly handles on the train, you're blocking entire doorways, your shoulders are bursting out of your tank tops and you're taking up an Australian-sized space in an Asian capital. Not cool.

To the Japanese: why do you always smell like beer? Is your life outside the cubicle just one big drunken karaoke jam? And why are you always taking up all the lift space with your golf clubs or drinking a case of Leo and having a great time at the restaurant next door?

To the Thais: why are you talking to me so fast? I'm learning. You laugh at me for pronouncing things wrong, so you know I'm not that great, so why must I ask you to slow down? Do you know that I slow things way down, omit whole articles AND put on a slight Asian accent for you when you attempt to understand me in English? Where's the reciprocation?

To the British: why are you talking to me so fast? You're speaking English and I still don't understand what you're saying, then you're ganging up on me like it's the Ashes, or like I care. youaremakingyoursentencesintoonesingleword. Breathing in between sentences is allowed.

To the people of all nations shopping at Jusco during Wednesday Market time ie Jerk Wednesday: Can you please move over? Or attempt to take some control of your trolley? Or just stop blocking my passage to the milk? I have a computer to get back to.

To the cockroaches near my apartment window: can't you find a different place to scurry into, please? This arrangement will work out for both of us – mainly you, because if you DO come in, my cat is going to distribute your body across every square inch of my bed (I know, ew). This is not ideal for you, nor is it a pleasant way for me to wake up in the morning ie. with bits of you all over me and the place where I sleep. Also: how many legs do you have? I was under the impression that it was six, but I'm starting to doubt this. OH, and STOP FLYING! Justice loves it when you try to flutter away – I DON'T.

To my ex-boyfriend: can you please stop coming around and helping me with things? I'm really trying to hate your guts and it's hard when you're so undetestable.

To wrap things up on a less whiny note, some pics of my apartment: it is Sparta at the moment, but I plan to add more, like another cat at least, when I have the resources.




toodles!

BE EXCITED!

Because I have a new job, new furnishings and I just mopped my entire floor by hand as I don't have a mop but at least now my apartment is not a supersized petrie dish.

I should right now be doing some freelance work, but I woke up late, got hooked on true blood, mopped and here we are, with me about to have a shower and go out with Stu and Bianca and probably flirt with gay guys. I'd love to post a photo of my place looking sparkly and furnished, sans shopping trolleys and cardboard boxes and piles of poo, but my network is, as always, a bitch.

x

Don't get excited

Justice taking a break from being a massive anal fissure

...not that I'm implying my blog is something over which to get light-headed, I'm just saying, have even less expectation about this one as you would normally as I have nothing of any note to report. Except for: this may be my last ever blog as I think I have The Pox.

My head hurts, my throat tickles, I'm sweaty (I know it's the hot season, but I know hot season sweat from pox sweat), and most tellingly: I'M NOT VERY HUNGRY. I'm usually very hungry. Then I eat and I'm very full. Then I'm very hungry again. I'm never in the middle.

Anyway, still no cable. Still on my way to crazy cat ladydom, but without my stories. Actually, I think you can't be a proper crazy cat lady without your stories (not sure, I'll have to consult The Crazy Cat Lady's Handbook 2009 Edition) so I will resume my quest for channels tomorrow. Picture Ellen Burstyn in Requiem For A Dream wandering around saying "I'm gonna be on television" - this is how I'm going to attack the problem. I'm sure the Thais who work in the True Visions office will get the reference and not run away from me screaming but smiling at the same time because it's their culture and they have to.

That's Justice above, sleeping on my desk (I warned you there was nothing to this post). He's precious. And so annoying. It's like he shoots up with persistence steroids while I'm asleep, because he's a tenacious little fucker. Six o'clock every morning he starts with the wake-up drill, which involves him putting is retarded kitten face all up in mine while I'm still asleep so his whiskers tickle me awake. Sounds cute, doesn't it? Well, it's so fucking not at 6am. Especially since HE KNOWS I don't get up until seven.

Apparently he enjoys being thrown across the room over and over again for an entire hour. Sometimes he plays it safe and just finds something noisy and breakable to bat at with his retarded kitten hands until I'm scream obscenities at him or throw a pillow, or the lamp, at him. [Edit: Yes, I really just did write "I'm scream obscenities at him". This is a direct result of teaching ESL in Thailand. Next I'll be saying 'appen' and 'nooden' and 'centran' without irony.] I DO throw the lamp sometimes because it's just a bamboo square thing I got for 100 baht at the markets, so I don't care if it breaks on his little kitten head. Oh, and speaking of fuck-face, here he comes now, trying to stand on the keyboard. Now he's sitting on his feet like a loaf of fucking bread, right on the keybad at the right-hand side, like he doesn't know he's hitting the 'enter' key.

Time to go – there's a BBC World news update I've only seen six times today.

Ciao!

True-ly Frustrating Times

OK, so between cycles of man-related rage/self-loathing/empowerment/sadness/apathy/hope etc and avoiding my freelance work I have plenty of time in which to do nothing, hence I NEED cable TV. Today I attempted to achieve this seemingly simple task – I know the required Thai vocab – and yet this is how shit went down (translated for your convenience into English):

1. INT CONDO ADMIN OFFICE - DAY

PLUMP ADMIN LADY and DOUR ADMIN LADY are sitting behind a desk, the TV is on. There are stacks of paperwork everywhere and it seems that no one has done filing in about five billion years. There is a 3RD ADMIN LADY off-screen who cannot be seen, only heard. BEK walks into the office with a confident, optimistic smile.

BEK
Hi. I want True Visions cable TV
but my Thai is not very good. I called
the True visions number but no one there
speaks English.

PLUMP ADMIN LADY (TO OFF-CAMERA 3RD ADMIN LADY)
(Scowls)
The people at UBC True Visions
speak English, don't they?

3RD ADMIN LADY(TO PLUMP ADMIN LADY)
Yes, they do.

PLUMP ADMIN LADY (TO BEK)
The UBC people speak English.

3RD ADMIN LADY(TO PLUMP ADMIN LADY)
(PAUSE) Maybe she should go to the
TRUE office in Carrefour.

PLUMP ADMIN LADY (TO BEK)
You should go to TRUE office in
Carrefour on level 1.

BEK
OK, thanks.

Bek exits.

2. INT UBC OFFICE - DAY

There is a ticket machine where you can select English to choose what service you need - there is no option for 'New Accounts' or 'Inquiries'. Bek walks gingerly up to the counter, where there are two FEMALE STAFF MEMBERS wearing face masks.

BEK

Hi. Do you speak any English?

FEMALE STAFF MEMBER 1

A little bit.

BEK
(In Thai anyway) I live in Srivara Mansions 1 and
want to connect True Visions TV.

FEMALE STAFF MEMBER 1

Does your condo already have a cable connection?

BEK

Yes. I want the Platinum package.

FEMALE STAFF MEMBER 1

You have to ask the admin office in your building.

3. INT CONDO OFFICE - DAY

DOUR ADMIN STAFF LADY is leaving the office and, on seeing Bek returning, chuckles.

BEK
Hi. The UBC office said to ask my condo office
admin to organise the connection.

PLUMP ADMIN LADY
Cannot. UBC has to do it.

4. INT UBC OFFICE - DAY

FEMALE STAFF MEMBER 1 sees Bek approaching and instantly looks stressed out.

BEK
Hi. My condo office says they can't do it, they said
UBC has to connect it.

FEMALE STAFF MEMBER 1 talks to an older lady with a tag that says - in English - STORE MANAGER – who incidentally does not ever directly address Bek, the English-speaking potential customer.

FEMALE STAFF MEMBER 1
Sorry, if your condo can't do
it, we can't do it.

CUT TO

5. INT JUSCO - DAY

Bek wanders around the grocery store, taking time to stare at the colourful S&P cake display.

THE END

Two years ago I knew hardly any Thai and was able to connect the damned cable – I asked the condo office management where I lived at the time and I got my 86 channels hooked up within two working days. Twelve months ago I knew significantly less Thai than now and was able to ask my different Thai condo office manager to organise an upgrade for me – again within two days.

Where am I going wrong, Thailand? Like Destiny's Child, I'm not gon give up, I'm gon work harder... to get my 86 channels.

b

New Apartment/Life/Job/Vibe

My New View

My Chinese horoscope this year basically said rabbits - that's me - were going to get face-raped by the cosmos this year. Being the year of the bull, the rabbit - the horoscopes foretold - would have zero chance of prosperity or love or good fortune or favour or anything not horrible at any time at all. Basically it said just batton down the hatches and ride this year out, sorry.

Now, I'm not superstitious at all (apart from believing that if you leave the house even for a second to get tissues to restock between torrents of sobbing, you're going to run into the object of your ruination looking like the very personification of why he left you - so AT THE LEAST don some waterproof mascara and something boob-enhancing or be chatting flirtatiously to no one on your mobile or be reading Ulysses or something or... where was I? Oh yeah, I'm not superstitious, but dang those Chinese star nerds got some things spot on - low finances for the first half - DING! Career won't go exactly to plan - DING DING!! an infidelity in the third quarter - DING DING DING!!! (NB. I don't have actual proof of an infidelity, but my gut tells me things - mostly that it's hungry and that cheeseburgers aren't that bad, but sometimes: your boyfriend's being a massive tool and you need to tell him to buck up or eat a bowl of dicks). Being a well-publicised year of economic disastrousness, the money-adjacent stuff is just common sense. As for the infidelity, who knows/cares. He was 22, he was penniless, he left. The End.

Anyway, all you BULLS, this rabbit is going to be OK. Sure, her ingenue/amuse bouche vapourised into thin air without even a dramatic sashay of glitter or a light show or even an 'it's me, not you', and sure, the rabbit warren still doesn't have a fridge or aircon or a bed, but ENOUGH with the freaken metaphor... suffice to say, I'm OK.

Even though my school was not shut down during The Pandemic, I have a week off because the kids have exams. I have slowly and almost horrifyingly come to realise that I do enjoy teaching. I get 90 per cent joy from seeing these completely inept, naive, silly, impressionable wannabe-adults every day. In most of my past jobs I've worked with vain, lazy, ignorant people with three-second attention spans and no accountability but at school if someone acts 13 it's because they are! You give them 5 min detention and tomorrow's a new day.

[Parenthetically, The Step Three dude from last week was nice to me this week, before he was dragged by my seniors into a proper punishment, so hopefully by the time school starts again he'll have had some kind of ephiphany or a dream where I appear before him as an apsara of good intention, excellent fashion sense and of course, invaluable knowledge. Or at least he might not tell me he hates me in front of everyone - baby steps.]


This was before, when ass-face's stuff was still in there. It's much more me now.


The loft ta-daaa


Justice trying to climb the ladder, which he can do. Down is faster for him, since it's mostly just falling.


Loft using pipes as clothes racks ie "industrial"

I have included some pics of my new apartment. It has a loft space, which I've always wanted. I never go up there as I don't have a bed yet, but I have plans. I'm in the midst of deciding - or not - to remove the hideous plaster ceiling tiles. The part of me that wants the bond back says no. The post-bottle-of-Leo in me says I cannot live another day with those ugly floral squares mocking me from above.

ps. Frankie is gone. I don't know where or to whom. It's just me and Justice now (and smug, outdated ceiling tiles.)



Better at sunset