Posts Tagged ‘relationships’


23 July 2017

Hong Kong

Hong Kong and Kowloon Skyline

Well that was money worth spending.

By the time most of you get this, we will be in the air, winging our way home…. Hopefully. Sunday morning, we had a note stuffed under our door which advised us of the potential scale 8 tropical cyclone passing right over us.  By breakfast time, the local government had issued a warning and posted that the cyclone was indeed hitting level 8. It advised that all shops would be closed (V is most upset) and that all public transport would be shut down (that is how we would get to the shopping so V was now distraught!).  A whole day in our room or get soaked wandering the streets like some homeless person looking for Housing Corp housing (oh, that’s another story).

So it gave us time to reflect on the last 5 weeks.  Hong Kong is a tale of two areas and some more.  There are Dings and Dangs, Wings and Wangs  and of course Pings and Pongs everywhere.  Anyone with a name with more than 4 letters is foreign …we almost pass as locals if it wasn’t for our civilised non-Mao Tse Tung look alike hair doo’s and our odd shaped eyes. This is both a vibrant modern city and a dirty, smelly and backward facing one too.  I’m just not into millions of hobbits with almond eyes in my personal space.  The woman and girls have no sense of respect and are only interested in holding up everyone as they worship the mobile phone like some deity. At dinner last night we watched three early 20’s woman eat their dinner with 1 hand and phone in the other so they could take photos of each mouthful they and the other two took.  Knives should be deleted as necessary items of cutlery as forks will lift the food to your mouth and you either stuff everything into your mouth or you nibble like some rat to get it into your stomach.  We were astonished at the supercar per population ratio. McLarens, Lambos and Ferraris everywhere. But the transport system is to die for.  They tunnel and bridge everything that can’t be driven easily….brilliant.

The Dutch and their fucking bicycles!  How they ride them as stoned as most seem to be is a skill to be harnessed but they are a danger to everyone else.  Trained by the Japanese, these Kamikaze pilots ensure they have your undivided attention as their attention span has been artificially mellowed. Walking home from the Red Light district one evening, a tram stopped beside us and as the doors opened, a fug of dope smoke fell out and crop dusted our fellow pedestrians in a 15 metre radius.  Those on the train be they smokers or not were just sitting there with a silly smirk on their faces….probably thinking of snacks.  We loved Amsterdam and everything was a pleasant surprise, even the cannabis Trumpets/Cornetto’s in the ice cream freezer in the various shops.

France is fantastic, even those that live in Paris were lovely and tolerant folk.  A bit dirty but nothing that a little Cif (French Jif) and a waterblaster couldn’t fix.  If only Britain could purge themselves of some of the twats that call themselves British, it too would be a paradise.  Those reliant on handouts (including government supplied cars) need a reality shot as they (mostly) are a blot on the landscape.  The Eastern Europeans scare the bejesus out of me.  They look like fattened Russian spies and they wear too much cologne and gold jewellry to be trusted.

We have loved our time, loved all those that have helped us and interacted with us especially our new emergency taxi driver Simon.

See you soon….we hope

V (Ping) and Me (Pong)





27 February 2017

I had an eventful night last night which mostly I’m not keen on repeating.

Jumped into bed and apart from a bit of Linen Olympics from time to time, I normally like to go to sleep asap. No faffing about for me. But last night V returns from the kitchen with a story about the cockroach lying on his back but very alive that I ‘should’ remove from this world. Usual method is a free lesson from the Kerry school of Cockroach diving where diving lessons are held in a flushing toilet. Getting back in bed she then notices a spec on the ceiling that she believed to be a baby version of the kitchen cocky…. and I could get out of bed to dispatch it if I like. If I like my arse! I thought ignoring it was the best action but how wrong could I have been…. of course I would love to get out of bed again and dispatch it.

Once back in bed and light off with Linen Olympics even after all those ‘Brownie Point’ earning activities not likely until another day….the familiar sound of a bloody mosquito could be heard. I pretended not to hear it thinking if I did, she might too but from the other side of the bed I was advised that it wouldn’t go away by ignoring it and that I should alight from my bed and obliterate that fucker too ….which I kind of did. A quick brush of the headboard as I got back into bed dislodged a bit of fluff which then caused a loud scream from V as she thought some other creature was going to get her, launching a deadly attack from her pillow. I didn’t even comment on how the fluff got there so soon after the housework was supposedly done.

Meanwhile Jeff is in and out of the cat flap doing his Bruce Lee impersonations as he single handedly eradicates all stray cats from the yard. How dare they venture on his turf? Then once all lights are off once again and the obligatory good-nights are completed he starts that horrible cat scaring sound. The one that sounds like a child crying. It sounded awfully close. You guessed it…. I apparently would like to investigate. So once again, the sheets are flung aside and I made my way to the en-suite because that was where the noise was coming from we deduced. Surely another cat had not got inside? Opening the door slowly so I could catch the marauding stray and here Jeff the cat is, .sitting on the sink giving arse hole’s to the ginger tom in the mirror. Removing Jeff from the bathroom quietened him down and miraculously, the cat in the mirror disappeared too!

I am praying for a quieter night tonight or that Linen Olympics are held early.


Cook your own fucking eggs from now on.


It appears that the commonly held opinion that girls like nice boys is actually a crock of shit.

I’ve done some research as is my why want.  Well I have little else on and the housework is done, why not?  From this reading, I’ve discovered that there is an active debate about whether the nice guy personality profile may actually make a man less desirable to women romantically or sexually. That’s it!  A typical nice guy like I am told frequently that I am, believes in putting the needs of others before his own, avoids confrontations, does favours, gives emotional support, and generally acts nicely towards women because I was brought up in a society that said that is how it is.


Nice guy is a term I’m lead to believe, by the general public and in popular culture describing an adult or teenage male with friendly yet unassertive personality traits in the context of a relationship with a woman. I am not in agreement with the unassertive bit by the way. Part of this debate includes speculation about hypocrisy among women in the dating world: that women may say they want a nice guy but won’t date him or have sex with him, and rather subconsciously prefer men who are more confident and assertive but less considerate. Think “Cook me some eggs”.  The “nice guys finish last” view is that there is a discrepancy between women’s stated preferences and their actual choices in men. In other words, women say that they want nice guys, but really go for men who are “jerks” or “bad boys” in the end.

Now I have always said I didn’t get the woman ‘think’ and here is another scientifically proven example of it.

Then I read about a glorious bunch of women that don’t seem to mince their words be they spoken or written.  I like these people.  Known as the Heartless Bitches International (HBI), they employ irony as a strategy to offer humorous explorations of contemporary gender relations.  They have published several short essays (which they labelled “rants”) on the concept of the Nice Guy. Central to the theme of these essays is that a genuinely nice male is desirable, but that many Nice Guys are insecure men unwilling to articulate their romantic or sexual feelings directly, which Instead they choose present themselves as their paramour’s “friend”, and hang around doing nice things for her in hopes that she will telepathically pick up on their desire for her (they sound just Gay to me). When she inevitably fails to divine their secret feelings, Nice Guys become embittered and blame her for “taking advantage” of them and their “niceness”. So here am trying to be a nice person because the world just needs people to be nice and they are seeing me being as weak!  Telling a partner that you want a relationship to develop as well as happily willing to be helpful around the home is weak? Telling them you love them?  No wonder Jake the Muss was so popular with the girls. The essays are particularly critical of what HBI sees as hypocrisy and manipulation on the part of self-professed Nice Guys.  No wonder I am alone again.

The terms Nice Guy and nice guy syndrome are used in feminist circles to describe men who view themselves as prototypical “nice guys,” but whose “nice deeds” are in reality only motivated by manipulating women into a relationship and/or sex … and if you read more research you find that woman are using this to manipulate in the same way.  I’m screwed!


A character by the name of Barclay found that when all other factors are held constant, guys who perform generous acts are rated as being more desirable for dates and long-term relationships than non-generous guys. This study used a series of matched descriptions where each male was presented in a generous or a control version which differed only whether the man tended to help others. Barclay suggests that niceness itself is desirable to women, but tends to be used by men who are less attractive in other domains, and this is what creates the appearance of “nice guys finish last”.  And here I was thinking that woman liked the idea of men coming after them.

So now, I am manipulative, unattractive, somewhat desirable in the eyes of their mothers only and confused on the order in which we should orgasm.  How do other guys learn this stuff?  When did they get ‘nice’ beaten out of them?  Was I away from school on those days perhaps?

I will always be a nice person because it is the right thing to do.  But from now on, you cook the bloody eggs, I’ll do the vacuuming if I want to and I’ll orgasm when I’m ready! Even if that means I’m single until I die.

I’m nasty already.