Thursday, September 22, 2011

The Fraggot

Only in Asia is it ok to have a TV personality named The Fraggot.  You have Stuart Scott in the States; we have The Fraggot here in Hong Kong.

Have a looksie at this commercial, which airs non-stop on our ESPN channel here:

Other than the ridiculous and quasi-offensive name of The Fraggot, are you astounded at the production quality?  The special effects alone are Oscar-worthy.

A Blogger's Dilemma

Almost three years into expat life here and I've reached a point that I've always feared could be looming ahead:

I have a great post that I want to write, but it's about a friend here who reads this blog who will instantly know I'm talking about her.  It's not negative, but would still be offensive, I think.

I'm also getting the distinct impression that other "friends" (ok, acquaintances) who read this blog are scared to hang out with me for fear something they say or do will end up on this blog.  Again, won't name names or examples of how I can tell, but I can.

So sorry for the radio silence recently - but alienating friends isn't a smart move.  Let's hope some t-shirt Chinglish or a good swinging story crossed my path soon!

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Cheese Please

I have an unhealthy relationship with cheese.  Not a meal goes by where some form of cheese - sprinkled parmesan on my pasta, a slice of swiss on a sandwich, a smear of cream cheese on my morning toast, doesn't find its way on my plate.

I'm not sure why I'm telling you all of this.  I guess it has something to do with this picture:

The beauty of being an international housewise is that you can assemble at 5 on a Friday for impromptu drinks and cheese with women from all over the globe.  And lest you think we're all work and no play, I'll have you know this Happy Hour gathering was educational.

I learned that Gouda (seen above with the cute Dutch toothpicks) is Dutch.  I've also learned that my pronunciation (goo-dah) is incorrect.  The Dutch say hu-dah.  For the first syllable, you need to sound like you're trying to hawk a loogie.  

See, it's not all tennis lessons and martinis.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

What Not to Wear

Spotted this demure flower on the Monday 9am ferry:

Because black thigh-highs lined with fake rhinestones, a miniskirt that barely covers your hoo-ha, camouflage and 4-inch booties are super appropriate for the 9am commuter ferry.

But you know what part of this ensemble bothers me the most?  The long pieces of hair that have been strategically pulled from her ponytail and are hanging in her face.  That and her scowl -  tres pretty.

I guess the only question I have is -- is this a ferry ride of shame or does her office have a "business sexual" dress policy? 

Saturday, September 10, 2011

The Chinese Man Purse

Another prevalent custom you find here is men carrying their wives/girlfriends purses.  Sometimes, when it's a satchel or Lands End-esque tote, I'm on board with it and think, "Aw, how nice of him to carry that heavy bag for his lady."  With how much crap my husband tries to shove in my bag (wallet, iphone, sunglasses, gum, etc.), he should be carrying it!

Other times, I see this (below) and think "werk it, gurrrl!"

Doncha just love how it sits in the crook of his arm - a la Jessica Simpson?! He's been doing this a long time to know where the purse carrying sweet spot is.

Friday, September 9, 2011

Profeshionel Chinglish

Oh, the irony...

I need to open up a business where Chinese businesses consult me before printing anything in English.  I would make millions...and finally be able to afford a golf cart!

Wednesday, September 7, 2011


In New York City, social status was determined from things like your zip code or what school your kids go to or if and where you have a summer/weekend/country house.  Did you have the latest Mui Mui bag or were you still trying to rock a Coach (big misstep)?

In Discovery Bay, there are two things - and only two things, that will catapult you to the top of the social stratosphere:

Two helpers -- because anyone and everyone has one helper
A golf cart -- because mass transit is so pedestrian

Here in DB, cars are not allowed.  Instead, you are encouraged to take buses, walk or drive a golf cart.  I'm sure all the Americans are thinking, "Easy choice. I'd love to plunk down $3K for a golf cart instead of $30K for my SUV."  Except that in Discovery Bay, golf carts cost $800,000 HKD (~$120,000USD).  ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS...for a...GOLF CART.  The same golf carts that you use to get the 18th hole on a course - nothing extra special going on in these.

To put that in perspective, I just did a quick eBay search and you can get the following for $1,400 USD:
Club Car Golf Cart: New Tires & Hub Caps, New Tinted Fold Down Windshield, New Directionals, Golf Cart Encloser keep dry from rain, Battery Charger, Front and Rear Lights, Horn, Full RearView Mirror Across Top, Have Golf Bag Holders, Cup Holders, Two Compartments, Tee Holders, Ball Holder, 36 Volts Six Batteries. No tears on seats. Inspected and road ready.

Yeah, the math just doesn't add up.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

The White Obsession

Most Asian women are OBSESSED with having white skin.  They wear huge poker-player visors (also known as welders masks); they purchase beauty creams that taut bleaching effects; they dip their heads in chalk.  OK, I'm lying about that last one.  But having white skin is a big thing here.  My theory is that whiter skin signifies higher social ranking - like, only the peasants who work in the fields have a tan.  And, let's be honest, staying out of the sun *is* good for your skin.

However, I thought all of this only applied to the face.

Nope.  Turns out, Asian women also want their underarms to be "visibly whiter".  Check out the Nivea "Extra Whitening" deodorant that my friend Laura came across at the drug store:

Um, call me crazy, but big ole white stripes under my arms is NOT the desired effect I'm looking for in a deodorant.   

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Hot Lost Buns

These are sold at the concession stands inside our movie theaters:

If that isn't appetizing enough, when you order the hot dog, they don't give you a bun.  They just hand you a bare sausage to munch on!  Yesterday, I happened to be sitting next to a guy eating one and let me tell you - there is nothing more vomitous than a grown man chewing on a bare-fisted hot dog.  Nothing.