Victoria Grace Nation

Don’t move in with a girl when you’re still banging other chicks..oh wait my bad, getting other chicks to suck you off.


So my friend Raj, a young man in his 20’s (I won’t say early, mid or late) has been leading a life a lot like my friend Rainer, but this one has more emotional involvement and mind games involved, whereas Rainer has the physical down-pat. Raj has been stealing female hearts since his hazel, green eyes and tan complexion has developed. Born and raised in a wealthy family, he grew up privileged, going to the best private boy school, vacationing in remote tropical islands during vacation time and entertaining his friends in his multi-millionaire house. Yes the typical rich kid story.


So recently Raj has informed me he was seeking for a place to move-out to, you can call it leaving the nest,which is rare because that means he can’t be living off his parents anymore. But anyways he ended up finding an apartment at the swankiest part of town and got himself, what I thought was a bachelor pad. WRONG! I mean Raj is a real character when it comes to social skills, especially with the ladies. Multiple girlfriends and emotional relationships, while having other girls suck him off at the back of his expensive car before catching a late dinner with his girlfriend.


I would be finding a message later on, him telling me that he’s moved in with his current girlfriend, the one that he was having bedroom acrobatic issues with and was trying to seek other acrobatic partners elsewhere. So now he’s taken the leap and living with this girl, while trying to maintain a monogamous relationship with her…of course I forgot to mention this one girl on the side, nothing really, just an emotional clear up that needs to happen. Other then that, he’s already figured out how to juggle other girls once he gets tired of his new living arrangements. Congrats?

I had another joint birthday this year with my girlfriend B. Due to the fact that I was swamped with work prior, we only had maybe 2 weeks to prep for the big bash. For me, I only had 1 week to invite people, surprisingly a lot of people came to the club, but at that point I was too drunk to see half of them…or so I heard days after. So the plan was Ethiopian cuisine followed by the clubs. B had decided on a venue that was having a special event, coincidentally I knew the association that was hosting this event and the people that were showing up were people that I knew…yay more people to see, less people to invite!


I was looking forward to the huge bash, but of course 2 days before the party I was admitted to the hospital, but I wasn’t going to be the party pooper and I toughed it out! And hey, I have an excuse to look like shit now.


The restaurant was a…surprise to all of us. B had found this restaurant on the internet and it and some pretty good reviews, so we thought “What the hell! No harm in trying it out!” The food was good, the place, was not and the cleanliness was at par with a New York dumpster. It came in a huge plate and none of us knew what we were eating! It was good, sort of like Mexican. Funny thing? We walk in and instead of authentic Ethiopian people and flavors, the customers and servers were mainly screaming in Spanish, the place smelled like a Mexican joint and the speakers were blaring hardcore rap. Hmm funny…I didn’t know authentic Ethiopian music meant Slim Shady.


The dinner was suppose to be an intimate thing between B and my friends, the club was strictly for all our other friends. Okay so problem? Our girlfriends couldn’t make it to dinner, so the boyfriends decided to represent, you can say the dinner had a very strong testosterone presence.


Oh right, B and I had met through mutual friends, we had all gone to post secondary together, I was in the School of Business and she was in some Architectural Program. Long story short, we remained friends and since our birthdays were 2 weeks apart, we though we’d celebrate our birthdays together. Of course I’m not a huge fan of planning elaborate birthdays, knowing how stressful it gets, I spent the last 3 years on my birthday, driving drunken people home!


Back to dinner, the restaurant was a block and a half away from the club, it’s not in a good part of town either, but we had enough guys to walk us there! The boys and I did shots in the restaurant, it was pretty funny, the owner came out with his personal stash and served us shots in plastic shot cups because he didn’t have extra shot glasses…talk about shaaady.


The club was…a blur? I don’t know how many drinks people bought me but I was falling on everyone telling them they looked good and how drunk I was, that was what I did 50% of the time, the other 50% I spent in the bathroom taking pictures with the girls. I saw way more people but I didn’t get pictures with them, the pictures I could salvage were the ones my other girlfriends took.


The night ended up with me outside of St. Joseph’s hospital, apparently a fight broke out between 2 guys and one of them had fallen on me, they had bruised my already sprained-but-healing foot. The bouncers and my guy friends carried me out, I vaguely remember a burly, bald, Spanish guy pulling my dress down while he was carrying me out, I chuckled quite a bit inside even though I was in pain. I woke up and found out that I had lost my bank card, $60, a lot of my makeup, my favourite bangle and hair piece. All in all, I made a perfectly good ass out of myself on my birthday (good job) I made a scene, I tested the waters of my friendship, and I found a lot of truths and untruths that night. But hell! I had a blast!


Did I mention this is the first time I actually forgot a drunken night?

You know how they say “you learn something new everyday”? Well that’s exactly what happened. I found something out about myself that I never really knew still existed in me.


High School kids scare the shit out of me and high school office employees are up to par with librarians in the “stick up the ass” look and attitude.

My younger sister had called me earlier the week before and had asked me to head to our old high school and pick up her transcript for her. So being the good sister that I was am, I went to the school before work (of course a week AFTER later =D). I had parked my car in front of the Community Centre that’s attached to our old high school, I had exactly 12 minutes in the 10 minute zone before the anal ticket issuer would come around and give me a ticket. I was prompted to work fast or I could pay $3 and park at the parking lot….uh ya right!


So I opted to go the cheap route (obviously!) I rushed up the back stairs of the high school and into the main foyer. The foyer was PACKED with a literal sea of hormonally charged teenagers. I ducked and squeezed through the crowed. It would have been quite amusing to see the looks I got if I hadn’t suddenly been filled with a sense of disgust. Even though I’m way older than these kids, they all have about a good foot on me. I’m short think the Olsen twins, Kristin Bell Christina Ricci. It’s okay I’ve accepted the fact that I’m vertically challenged, but that doesn’t stop the curious looks that I got from curious eyes. Girls stopped mid-sentence to look at the unfamiliar estrogen addition to the halls, doing the whole sizing up thing, but realized that I was probably another substitute teacher. Seriously is it me or do high school girls look a whole lot younger now?! Okay maybe just my high school because from the HS school girls I see on the internet, those girls look old! Anyways the zitty teenage boys moved shifted their sexually peaked gazes at me with hopeful eyes, of course once their eyes made contact to the rest of me they were disappointed that there wasn’t any fresh meat.


Honestly now, I wasn’t wearing anything that screamed “LOOK AT ME!” I was in a baby blue camisole, a light tanned cashmere sweater with dark grey pinstriped trousers, a black peacoat and pointy black stilettos. I had my white leather slough bag and my blackberry in hand.


Okay so the normal 10 second walk to the main office took me a few minutes due to the congestion. I squeezed, ducked, “excused” myself into the office. Once I got there I had to take a few deep breaths and compose myself, I probably looked like a tornado had hit me, YES, it was THAT cramped. It was probably a new term and kids were rushing in and out trying to get their schedules and rushing to their classes. I walked up to the office counter and waited. It’s interesting to see how much bad service you get at a high school, a few minutes passed before someone rudely asked me what I had wanted. I told them I was there to pick up transcripts for . Of course the lady looked confused and began looking through her non-existent pile of documents for the transcripts. This whole process took another few minutes before she told me to sit down and wait while she looked into it. At this point a nice line had formed with more high school kids. The faker sickers that wanted to sign out to go home, the one girl that needed her schedule but an entourage of 20 shows up with her, the freshmen kids that were still stuck between the sing-a-long with Dora and oogling over Zac Efron comes in. I had my back to the glass window that showed the activities of the crowded hallways. I could feel the wandering eyes that seared into my skull. Even with 3000 at school, it was always fascinating to see new people at school. The most amusing thing was eavesdropping into random bits of high school conversation in the office, a girl that complained about how much she hated her parents because they didn’t upgrade her ipod touch to an iphone. Another wanting to kill herself because her parents wouldn’t let her go to some guy’s party or a guy showing off to his friends talking about beating up so-and-so, it was wild I tell ya. It quickly brought me back to my days of high school, when I suffered enough drama to last a lifetime.


Anyways after making me wait 15 minutes, at which I was ready to start shooting people if I had a gun, because let me tell you SOMEBODY WILL GET HURT REAL BAD if I got a ticket. The lady at the reception desk was a real stick-in-the-bum, and I mean that literally, it was like she had a 2-headed dildo rammed up her ass. She lacked personality, if any at all, she lacked something called social etiquette. She was downright mean, either her husband’s not giving her any or she’s just had one of those FML days. Either way I got the transcript, headed to my car and *PHEW* my car is STILL there and ticket free =D Oh thank the big guy upstairs!


So conclusion? I realized I NEVER want to work at a high school nor a library because that’s where all those people are that are rude, don’t smile and needs a good roll in the hay with Antonio Sabato Jr…er…okay sorry that was sooooo circa The Big Hit, okay fine, roll in the hay with Hugh Jackman? Brad Pitt? Chris Evans? Matt Loewen?

A night of fiesta was in the works, another fun filled night was upon us again. It was another one of our Girls Night Out that happens at least once a month. It started with me and my girlfriend Ally, before Cristina joined in and a recent addition of another member as well.

Ally and I had gone through life partying in dorms, re-doing budget plans at 4am, and gossip ruthlessly during 2 hour lectures. In the years that we struggled for the day we threw our graduation hats up in the air and start our careers, we had become inseparable. We studied together, ate together, sat together, even gaining weight together during those long, grueling, hours days we’d be together studying, not showering, not sleeping on campus. Even though Ally is younger than me, she is like my Mother…okay no more like my subconscious. She’s about 5′6 (give or take an inch), long and slender, silky black hair that runs down her back. She’s one of those girls that men tend to do double takes on. Her overall features are very modern and chic, but look closely and her features are traditional and cute. Like a puzzle, her dark brown, almond shaped eyes and button nose piece nicely on her heart shaped face.


Then there’s Cristina, the quiet little tyke with a down-to-earth bohemian feel about her. She’s about 5′2, long black hair full of light waves that perfectly frame her oval face. Her style goes from conservative feminist to timeless class to her everyday boho style. You’ll never see Cristina without either a long scarf, boots, drapery or jewelry. Her gracious manners extend throughout when you speak to her, always quietly commanding. She’s the only one person that can ever be blunt to a mafia leader and still come off as the sweetest, most courteous thing. I met Cristina on my birthday a few years ago. She had met Ally at some latin dance place and thought she’d drop by my birthday bash before she headed off to her other plans. Well things turned out pretty badly that night with my reservations and I was in full-on bitch mode and poor girl had to witness it, the first moments she met me. For some odd reason she actually still wanted to be my friend and here we are now a few years later, sharing another drink and laughing at our lives.


Before I go on, I admit that I am 2 weeks late for this post, my outing with the girls happened 2 weeks ago, so needless to say the night seems like moldy stale bread to me at the moment, especially after coming home from a weekend getaway.


Either way I met up with these girls at the local lounge place we always go, ordered drinks and I partially gave them graphic details about my Asia trip (which I have yet to fully post yet…I know I suck, but I’ve been busy!) We were getting pretty hungry at this point, so we hopped in my car and drove over to a restaurant close by. The usual restaurants that caters to the young urban dwellers. The bathrooms have automatic switches that turn sanitary toilet condoms for your ass cheeks, the flusher is strategically placed on the floor for you to stomp on and waitresses there have to have perky breasts and tight shirts. I ordered a scallop, prawn pasta of some sort, Ally had some type of exotic asian plate and Cristina went for their gourmet pesto quesadillas. I honestly have to admit that I don’t remember what our conversation entailed, but some were pretty smashing…OH RIGHT! Like our experiences to the gyno. Oy women! I know I’ll spare everyone the gruesome details. But lets rewind a bit, we had gotten to the restaurant and while we were walking to our seats we had passed a table where 2 men sat. One was this beefy white guy who appeared as though he had just got there from the gym, across from him was this asian guy who was average in built, usual dark expensive clothes and latest gadgets. The gym monkey was facing us as we were walking to our seats and since Ally was leading the pack and I was the last person I saw the whole thing! The gym monkey was totally into his conversation when he stopped half way to check Ally and Cristina out…I mean hell I would too! He did the whole annoying thing where he turned his whole head, half his body and stared, trying to see if their bodies and faces were worth a couple more drools. It was disgusting, and usually when I see men like that, I’ll deliberately do something disgusting like pick a wedgie or something.


So we toasted to the new year over a round of Brazillians and I would say more but I don’t really recall the rest so TA-Da!

So I was blankly staring at my monitor today, fighting every last bit of urge to take my boots off, wipe all the shit off my desk and doze off in fetal position on my oak wood desk. I think I was dazedly looking at a post about the theory of the Law of Attraction when a voice broke through my momentary retardation.


“Hey Vic, I’m taking off for the day, geez you’re always dressed so stylishly fashionable, you encourage me to dress and look better, you know that?” comes the voice of one the Directors of the company I work for. I look up seeing him towering over my desk in his denim jeans, expensive suit jacket and tie. He’s in his early 40’s, blond hair, blue eyes with a face that looks like it belongs to a guy in his mid 30’s. We’ll call him Mr Branson, since with facial hair he looks like a young version of Richard Branson with bigger eyes. Mr Branson is a happy-go-lucky guy, with a booming laugh that rocks the office every time he’s on the phone…I honestly wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between Mr Branson’s laugh or an actual earthquake.

So I look up sort of in a state of confusion since he just broke through my mindless state of “I’m bored as fuck, but I’m trying to look busy.” I politely thanked him and we talked a bit more about fashion before he took off for the day. It was 1:30pm.


So after he left I did a quick review of my wardrobe this week:


Monday:
-Black turtleneck
-Red doll-cut cashmere sweater
-Black high waisted trousers
-Pointy Stiletto heels
-A long gold loopy chain

Tuesday:
-Black turtle neck
-A short beige jacket that cinched at the waist and flared out at the bottom (very Jackie O, Paris fashion, Katie Holmes)
-A long silver chain with a flat hoop that says “Live your Life”
-Black skinny denims
-Black leather mid-length riding boots with a 2 inch thick heel
-A nude colored knit baret


Of course I finished off both looks with the usual diamond studs, white ceramic watch and a neutral bracelet


I don’t think it’s anything WOWing…although our city lacks any sort of fashion besides jeans and a top from the ONLY store that all the girls will shop from. I think it’s the baret…I mean the only people that wear hats are guys (caps) and the alternative kids that want to rebel against society. But to have a guy say that to me is such a compliment!


Okay I’m done rolling around in my own vanity now.

NEXT!

So a client of ours showed up at the office today to drop off some documents for me. Nice guy really, in his 30’s, distinct taste for plaid, an infectious smile with an easy going, “got to love him” personality. We chit chatted for a bit as he updated me on all the local industry events. There’s a huge convention going on right now and about 1000-2000 big honchos in the industry are here schmoozing away. Extravagantly lavish parties are popping up all over the city with all the wine and hors d’oeuvres you can get your slimy little fingers on.


Anyways by the time I was showing him out to the elevators, he made a note that I should be attending some of these parties and ease up a little considering it is Monday and a little wine never hurt anybody. I smiled politely as he invited me to a 6 o’clock cocktail party at one of the city’s 5 star hotels with an amazing view of the harbor.


With the sun shining, it’s hard not to be slightly tempted by the prospect of good wine and the idea that I’m not stuck in traffic like those other commuting losers. I naturally picked up my phone and called Em, my party girl. She doesn’t pick up. Shit. She’s probably still sleeping or she’s at work. It’s 4pm on a Monday…Chinese New Year as well as Australia Day. I leave her a text. I call up my other friend Leely, a girl I tell everything to. I will talk more about her tomorrow. So Leely’s taking some night course and was obligated to go and suddenly I didn’t feel like going anymore without my 2 crazy go-to girls, as well, I was suddenly hit with exhaustion. And now here I am, sitting at home on a Monday night, ready for an early retirement to bed.


What’s on tomorrow’s agenda? Work, family dinner then meeting up with the girls for the usual Girls Night Out at The Lounge.

I thought it was just me, but seriously I feel as though that a lot of men in China are absolute slimeballs! So during my flight back from An Fei Province into Shen Zhen International Airport, I ran into a little issue with this guy in China. I’ve always had issues with both men and women staring at me all the time, but the problem is 100x worse in China. I have no idea why people stare, I mean it would make sense if I was some 5′10, goddess like creature, but frankly, I’m not. So I was on a 2 hour flight and due to the fact that I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep during my trip to An Fei Province in China, I tried to get the most of the snooze time on the flight, before I had to endure more travelling.


So the plane lands in Shenzhen and even before the plane reaches the ground completely (let alone stops completely) people were taking out their cell phones and calling their family and friends to pick them up. Needless to say I was somewhat scared that I was meeting my death real soon. The social norm in China is quite different with what I’m use to, but I’ll further delve into that in another post. But yes back to the perverted men of China. So as I was saying, everyones buckling out of their seats even before the plane stops and the narrow walkway of the small plane was congested with agitated Chinese folks all waiting to get off and onwards in their busy lives. I really have no idea why, since the doors weren’t open and people were just standing there blocking everyone else. But tiny ol’ me was pushed and forced into the human congestion and I somehow ended up standing in the single filed line. There was a huge Chinese man that sat a row ahead of me, adjacent to my seat. He was big for a Chinese guy, looked like a Northern folk with a crew cut, thick accent where his R’s rolled nasally in a deep baritone. He sat next to a woman that was obviously his significant other, she had massive curls on her head and light overly dyed auburn hair. I only noticed the man when he obnoxiously coughed and snorted hork that was stuck in the back of his throat as well as loudly yawning to a point that every single person 6 rows upfront would turn and look. He was rude.


So I stood their politely waiting for the queued up line to go. The obnoxious man was still sitting as his seat and it seemed as though my boobs were at his eye level. Okay so he turns his head and he gets an eyeful of my scarf with a bit of my lady bumps. Normally any guy would just look the other way when they realize that the owner of those bumps had caught the innocent contact. But no….his eyes lingered for a few seconds too long as his eyes slowly moved north and took in the rest of my body, my neck, my jawline, than my face. His beady eyes lingered on my face for a solid 2 minutes while I tried not to look at him. I can feel his eyes burning into my face. I was relieved when the people in front of me started moving. He actually left his wife and started following me. Once I got into the airport I got out of the school of people and waited on the side to wait for the rest of my group. My Mother met up with me later and she forcefully grabbed me and spun me around back into the crowed of people as she spoke into my ear “Do you know that man was staring at you like he was undressing you with his eyes and raping you like a raggety old doll back on that plane. I could see him 4 rows down! Why didn’t you do anything? Why is he following you?”


Okay that’s not even the worst part, so now I’m walking down the airport to the baggage area with our private tour guide (a local) on one side, my mother on the other and a friend of mine in front of me trying to hide me from this guy who kept staring and following us. They all saw how outrageous he was staring at me and they wanted to get me out of there. That creepy guy had the nerve to fish out his phone and tried to take a picture of me while I was walking. My friend actually snapped at him and it was like he couldn’t even hear or see, he just kept staring and following us. It was almost as bad as the time 2 Chinese men in suits caught me outside my hotel room and they came up to me, rubbed their bodies on me and asked me what I was doing and if it wasn’t for my Aunt with her fucked up,I’m a crazy psycho perm who came out to my rescue me, I would have been toast.


Men in China I tell ya, it’s like they can do whatever they want when they get horny! FUCK.

So it’s 10:40pm, I finally checked my e-ticket, because every responsible person should do that, but VERY responsible people would check PRIOR to bording a plane. My departure time was 12:05am, NOT 13:45 which was the Elapsed time of my flight. I was still in my house in the suburbs, and my presents havent been delivered to my neighbours yet, and it’s shitting rain like Diarrhea Falls or something. Okay don’t panic as I kept telling myself, while I calmly and yet sternly made an announcement that we were LEAVING. Of course having had told EVERYONE my flight was at 1am, there really was no rush. I had too much pride in me to suggest defeat and utter failure on my part. Ok I finally cracked in the car and we bolted down the slick highway.


I made it to the flight counter 1 minute before closing! No wait if I had shown up not when that lady saw me, I would have been fucked! Lights were already being shut down and signs were being brought back. I was scolded and some man speed typed my information into check-in. Apparently one of my lugguge was oversized and they had to charge me an extra $140, but since I’m too late they had to just let it go with a dissapproving look. Alright so I’m going on this flight!


Securities made me strip down to my socks. My jacket was gone, my shawl, my boots, my millions of bags. I was ready to turn on the Full Monty Soundtrack and start collecting bills in my g-string. Ok ya wishful thinking…on THEIR parts.


12hours later and after 2 crying twins that sat close to me and a screaming toddler, I’m here! In Taiwan. There’s 15 more minutes before I take my next flight to Hong Kong International Airport. I just spent the last hour witnessing the sunrise in Taipei. It’s beautiful, but it’s not showing up on my crap camera (pix will be posted later).


so I thought I’d freshen up in the bathroom and put a bit of makeup when I realized I forgot my eyeshadow and the brush! FUCK! Do you know what this means?!?!? This is bad. I was so desperate I almost went and randomly grabbed a likeable, versatile shade from Christian Dior and swipe in on my Visa knowing they’ll charge me 3x the amount with all the different rate conversions. FUCK. Okay breathe..I’ll figure something out when I get to HK. I have 24 hours. I’m going to go take more pictures for you guys now. Oh right I got hit on when I was in Vancouver International Airport. LOL. Weird.

So where has Victoria Grace gone the last little while? Sadly I’ve been trapped at home unable to do anything. Why? Well let’s start with my thumbs/wrists. As of March 2008 my right thumb muscles came down with a case of Tendinitis, of course weeks and months go by and it still hasn’t gotten better. I’ve seen doctors, physiotherapists, even tried alternative medicine. There are good days and bad days, sometimes I can move them, sometimes I can’t. It’s great really, it’s been so long that I have no more strength in my thumb. I tried lighting a sample lighter at Ed’s Linens back in the summer and failed miserably, that is when I realized that my thumb muscles have deteriorated to a stalk of celery. Of course by the summer, my left thumb did the same thing and I couldn’t use my hands at all for a good week.

The past few weeks have been hit or miss, there were a few days where I could barely move my thumbs and the guy I was seeing ended up taking me to his older brother whose a physiotherapist. In the end I was sitting on his living room couch with twitching needles in my right hand. It got better until last week, when the pain changed and turned into a numbing sensation and the pain was moving to my wrists. I needed to something. So I went to see Dr Hong, this Chinese sprain expert. He use to be a bone doctor in China and now works in the city, hurting his patients during his sessions before making them better.

And then there was my left toe. I don’t know how, but I managed to sprain it. It was feeling a bit weird on the night I was out watching Zack and Miri, and by the next afternoon my foot had swelled up to the size of a baby elephant foot and I could barely walk. A week went by and it was still dreadfully painful, so what the heck, why not go see Doctor Hong for everything.


Goodness was that ever a mistake on my part. He twisted, jabbed, scraped at my toes and wrists. Of course he checked me out first, diagnosed me and told me all the possibilities of why and how such luck had befallen me. I was in such excruciating pain that I was seriously crying. Then he used little bamboo cups and vacuumed the crap out of my foot to suction out all the bruising. Then he wrapped me up in herbal patches and gave me a temporary shoe aka a plastic bag to get to the car. I was in so much pain I had to be driven home, I fell asleep in the car and by the time I got home at 7pm I went straight to bed. I wasn’t tired, I was in so much pain that I had to sleep. The pain was so bad I needed to puke. I was unable to walk or move my hands for 2 days. But hey! Now I’m all good. And I’m back! Sort of….I have to go back to him soon for Round 2. Wish me luck!