The last 2 weeks have been pretty crappy, stressful and forgettable with the sort of days that make you feel like you don’t know where time went but you do know that you didn’t spend said time in a constructive way. Between clogged toilets and crappy dates, life has been all too shitty lately.
I am not wakeboarding this weekend, nor did I the last and that makes me unhappy, especially considering the fact that Jups, sportsperson unspectacular, actually learnt her second wakeboarding trick – turning the board 180 degrees. I treat sports the way the American schooling system now treats dunces – you get credit for turning up. Getting up on the board – Good. Staying on the board – Yayy. Getting in and out of wakes – Double Yayy. Holy shit did you just the turn the 180 degrees? FUCK OFF NO WAY, CALL YOUR MOTHER NOW. Looks like my new year’s resolution of jumping before year end might come true.
Two weeks ago I also discovered that my lovely Sri Lankan maid cheated me of 1050 HKD and fled the country. Fuck this shit. I spend several months denying the need for a maid, finally give in, get used to her for what 5 weeks? and poof she’s gone. Okay, so a part of me is grateful that she didn’t happily make off with my diamond jewelry (all within easy reach, I dont have a locker) or my laptop or something but that doesn’t make this situation any less ironic and stressful. Not to mention how stupid it makes me feel for being trusting and kind. No good deed goes unpunished.
This weekend I found another maid on an expat forum. She charges a bit more but I could care less. Turns out she’s a ridiculously cheerful young Filipino girl and so far she seems to be a neat freak – both those things are winners with me. On the flip side, it would appear that she is pregnant? I don’t know how to feel about that but hey, the feminist in me believes that she chose to work and I cannot discriminate against her nor deprive her of her livelihood. Besides it’s early and there is no risk of her dropping her kid in my apartment. Wow, I just scared myself shitless with that visual.
Work is getting increasingly crappier with several senior members of my department getting poached by bigger, green pastures including my ex-boss (you remember him, made me work like a slave but loved me too?). Not easy news to stomach because it reduces the probability of moving back to New York to near-zero. Also not easy to bear is that my current boss is a whiney, immature, insecure man-child who has not taken the news of his peers getting poached (while he languishes here) very well. Aforementioned bitterness has been liberally dumped on my ass, the quality of work shamelessly questioned. One grins. One bears it. One is enraged. One plots her escape. After all, one of the jups’ guiding philosophies seems to be “Get mad, then get even”.
The CV has been cracked open and will be open to copious criticism from Jin and Santa and Inshallah, armed with a new-and-improved CV and hopefully, some guts and gumption, the Jups should be ready. It sucks to be shortchanged and disrespected when you are being sincere. The silver lining of course is that said bitter bossmanchild is away for a good 3 weeks and this will give me plenty of time to think, strategise, network and .
Last saturday night Jin and I landed ourselves on a double date. Yeah. Well, it was the third date for her and her boy, I was just company to his friend. All in all, it wasn’t terrible but wasn’t memorable either. Fun and moderately pleasant? On the bright side, the boys picked up the tab on rather copious amounts of champagne.
Sunday was supposed to be fabulous and 95% of it really was. I had scheduled to have brunch with some of the very many lovely women I have had the pleasure of meeting in Honkers. Make that Champagne Brunch at chic Japanese resto, Zuma, no less. There is something about tiny little morsels of fresh, fine food and unlimited flutes of bellinis, champagne and let’s not forget sake that really speaks to the inner glutton in me (at this point, I admit, my inner glutton isn’t inner at all, she is pretty much out there for all and sundry to see). We realized that the staggering price tag is actually pretty well deserved; after all buffets and open bars are a treat for those who have an appetite. For life. And let’s face it, what could possibly go wrong with 8 girls bringing their A-game to a fabulous brunch in a fabulous venue? Not much if you don’t count subsequent drunk rowdiness and/or hangovers.
It came to pass that we drank from 11 am to around 3pm as a group, after which the crowd thinned a bit and then a bit more until only three of us were left – myself, Elvish Pixie and another girl who works in fashion, let’s call her Marilyn (after the Monroe, not the Manson). Some more friends joined us, then they left, some others came too, the only constant was the flow of champagne, which lasted until say, 9 pm.
And here’s where the debauchery started. In chronological order, as well as in most cases, order of general sucktitude, these are the regrettable things that the Jups did:
- Stole a champagne glass. Brought said glass home safely in her purse. Also brought back with her Monroe’s iphone and Dior sunglasses because even in her drunken state, the Jups is nothing if not observant, and a good friend.
- Dropped a glass bottle on the escalator; it proceeded to smash into smithereens. Felt regret for being a bad citizen. Dropped bottle because she was also simultaneously doing this…
- Drunk-dialled a guy with whom I had been on one date (okay two if you count casual drinks and shisha). Gave him home address for no apparent reason. Forgot why or conversation that led to and followed said giving of address.
- Went home, texted him goodnight and passed out.
- Awoke in 15 minutes to a phone call from Booboo. Told him to call later. Forgot if this was done nicely or rudely. Slept.
- Awoke again and went downstairs to return Monroe’s things. Also gave her an umbrella. Bitched about a text that I had received moments ago and …
- Replied to Mark who called immediately and insisted on coming over. Proceeded to get utterly confused as he spent 2 hours in the arms of a clearly very drunk girl whilst telling her how he cared for her and missed her and blahdeeblahconfusinggobbledeegook.
- Called him as soon as he left and confessed in a relatively cute and unabashed way, my feelings for him which he did not reciprocate.
What a gutless nincompoop assclown. I hope he falls facedown in a pile of rancid tofu mixed with piss from a horse that just ate through an asparagus field.
Trust the Jups to turn a nice champagne buzz into a lamentable shame spiral. But as I always say (actually never), it’s all about the recovery. I woke up at 530 on a Monday morning, kicked some serious client meeting ass and managed to do without looking entirely dreadful. I also apologized to boy mentioned in # 3. And was somewhat relieved that he probably wouldn’t ever call me again after what I did. I was wrong. He’s been rather persistent and despite all my efforts to not do so, I am going on another date with him this weekend. Groan. He’s younger than me and an epic braggart. When will these Hong Kong men get a fucking clue? All this “nouveau cool” nonsense isn’t exactly setting my pants on fire. Congratulations on your awesome job, perks and paycheck. Come back to me when you can buy a personality with it.
Of course all this self-destructive behaviour on my part is rather disappointing and especially after I vowed to cut back and focus on the things I really need to focus on, like the CFA and the job hunt. It doesn’t help that I have a junk trip on Sunday and the HK art fair on Saturday. Still I pledge to spend a good 3 -4 hours this weekend on working on what is hereby known as the “Emancipation of Jups” project.
In other news, among other beautiful things, I snagged (finally) a delicious grey-market Marc by Marc Jacobs Dress – a sumptuous orange and cream colourblock beauty in buttery soft silk. I intend to rock the shit out of this dress over the weekend.
p.s. I am jumping on the twitter bandwagon (why not), I think it will be useful for those microblogposts and though it is blatant selfpropaganda, I think it would a great way to get more people to read the Juice. Ya know, just in case, I have to quit banking and have to actually consider writing as a career. Yeah Right.