Tag Archives: Travel

Fucking tired

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I’m not sure if I can snap out of this great fatigue. Nope, instead I might perish on the spot with only a note to blow my ashes over Monterey.

My luggage finally fucking arrived at about 9 p.m. last night, while we were out dining with the family of Aunt #6. (I am determined to learn names this year, since I think I have the numerical order of the family down.)

It sucks wearing your boyfriend’s close (and mind you a wee tighter than I enjoy), whilst strolling the major shopping neighborhood in a major, fashionable, modern, consumerist city such as Singapore. We did buy an unlocked cell phone and SIM card to maintain radio contact with the relatives. But, I felt too disgusting, tired, frustrated and harassed by the equally jet lagged (but less like to admit it) boyo.

By the early evening, I just wanted to crawl my poorly clothed self into bed and sulk.

Although, dinner at an Indonesian restaurant was great with the Singaporean branch of the family, and they seemed to forgive my complete lack of fashion. I do so hate being the pseudo-wife dressed as a pseudo dyke.

It’s tomorrow, Monday, on this side of the world. Alas, the score for the Super Bowl didn’t time travel with us. Go Pats.

35,000 and whining

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Asia is very far away from the U.S.  About 9 hours in we still haven’t hit our layover in Japan.  Japan promises fun things like some kind of foot, toilets that are not in mid-air and electricity. From Tokyo, we’ll hit Singapore at about 12 midnight, there anyway.

It will be 19 or so hours from when we left the house, and one crossover the international dateline and yesterday is completely gone.  I’m sure I could come with some yearbook or poster worthy wise about minding the days as they slip through your hands. I hope I get to see monkeys.

More so, I hope I get to see monkeys in a wilderness kind of way.  Ones that don’t get peanuts from children, but instead live by their wits, as I’ll be doing. OK, that’s a lie.  I’ll be living more by my half-wits.  The wit that will need to go along with the crowd and smile profusely like the dim watt that I am unsure about language and all that.  Thank fucking god English is pretty prevalent among the M.’s folks.

If we get a SIM card to work in my old, unlocked cell phone I schlepped along, I’m going to have to beg M. to carry it.  His family from what I have seen seems addicted to the technology, using phones to text and talk like walkie talkies.  You don’t just meet somewhere, someone will call you. As what I like to call the “pseudo-wife,” seemingly there is a movement to put me pseudo in charge. So his aunt has my number on speed dial. It gives me sympathy to my sisters-in-law.  Seriously, what cosmic decree that apparently crosses cultures, puts the chicks in charge of telecommunications.  If I wanted that kind of role I would have tried to be a radioman in the army. 

Overdue and fun-ish in list form

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There’s a whole lot of shit I haven’t written out and tried to make all funny haha.  But rest assured there are teeny little glimmers of ideas bouncing in the vast, empty expanse I call my skull.

The best I can do:

 – M. has taken to getting T-shirts altered to his particular likes. 
 – M. makes me laugh.  Very, very much, in fact too much, like myself he struggles with his individuality.  We both think we blend in a very low-key one of the crowd way.  We don’t.
 – It looks like folks from a few jobs ago, and number 2 entry in my spectacularly fired from workplaces trilogy, might show up at the show I’m hosting.
 – Oh yeah, did I mention I’m hosting a show.  Comedy.  Funny.  Come on by.
 – Next week we head to Singapore and Malaysia.  I’m beginning the obsessive compulsive phase of traveling.  It begins with list making in my head.  I also am quite concerned that my underwear is ready for the international challenge.
 – Apropos the item above, my guilt is sinking in.  I mentioned a desire to see the rain forest.  I believe this wish will be met, but that accompanying us will be a subset of M.’s clan.  I had no intention that my whimsy would result in forcing his mother to a long march in the jungle.
 – Since Chinese is way above my intellectual capacity to learn, I thought I’d try Malay.  I have one week to actually take the book off our book shelf and learn a language.  Good planning.
 – Our guide book to Singapore says the slang for white person is “Ang Moh” around that neighborhood.  I think it’s Hokkien.  I asked M. for the word for “fat,” and it sounds something like bu-yo.  I’m going to be listening up for “bu-yo ang moh,” because this visit I’m chubbier and whiter than before.
 – If I hear a universal “Holy Shit” when I get off the plane, I know the prior item is correct.
 – Finally, there’s a whole slew of shit about work I could bitch about.  Suffice it to say — People is C-R-A-Z-Y (and generally, they annoy me.  People, all of them, that is.)