10 Reasons That I’m Surprised That Someone Married Me


“I’m an airplane, brrrrrrr, I’m an airplane, brrrrr! I want to be a pigeon so I can shit on people!”-I don’t remember this but apparently it happened after a little too much mojito last week.



ME: I was doing stuff.

F: What kind of stuff!?

ME: Not dying. You’re welcome.

F: Thank you? Wait. NO! Answer your fucking phone when I call!


While dancing romantically in the kitchen:

ME: What would  you do if we were dancing then suddenly I looked up and I had a zombie face?

F: What?!

ME: And I started eating your face.

F: What!? Why!?

ME: Because I would be a zombie. Jesus. It’s like talking to a wall! I don’t even know why I try anymore!

F: Shakes head, walks away.


After cuddling.

F: This is nice. I like laying next to you and…

ME: Holy shit! It looks like I’ve been mauled by a grizzly bear! LOOK AT ALL THAT HAIR! Are you SHEDDING!?

F: Blink. Blink. Shakes head. Sighs.


ME: Are you happy?

F: Yes. I love you. You make me very happy.

ME: Sigh.

F: Are you happy?

ME: Mostly.

F: Why, what’s wrong?

ME: I don’t have a Capybara.

F: Seriously? Are you going to bring this up every fucking day?

ME: Until you either buy me one or die. It’s really up to you how this goes down.

F: Why did I do this to myself?

ME: Why are you doing this to DWAYNE is the bigger question? I mean, he’s a giant cuddly rodent! What did he ever do to you?


ME: So you know how you’ve always wanted to live on a farm but I don’t because I’m not inbred?

F: Uhm, yes? I guess. Where is this going?

ME: I’ve decided we can buy a farm. We can have whatever animals you want and then on the other side I can have a pool with a Capy

F: No.


F: No. So…give up already.

ME: It’s not even for ME! It’s for YOU. Oliver could finally have a friend and he’d stop being annoying and you’d be less stressed out! And we could swim together in the pool so you won’t have to worry about me drowning!

F: No.

ME: We’re not friends. And Dwayne thinks you’re a dick.

F: No.



ME: If I had both a penis AND a vagina would you still date me?

F: If you were a hermaphrodite?

ME: Yes. Exactly. If I told you on the first date that I had BOTH would you still date me? I was thinking about the lady-boys and wondering how that all goes down during the “big reveal.”

F: Yeah, I think I would have still dated you.

ME: Yeah? Cool. Jamie Lee Curtis was born a hermaphrodite. She’s pretty hot.

F: Would you date me if I was one?

ME: Ew. No way! If you had a Man-gina? Nope. Too confusing. Too much terminology and I’m lazy.

F: That’s not very nice.

ME: My love has boundaries.


F: You’re not allowed to swim in the ocean without supervision.


F: Yeah, an adult who nearly just died in three feet of water.

ME: I’ve never been in a big wave before! I’m afraid of the water! SHARKS!

F: Fine, then don’t go in. When I say, “jump” I don’t mean, “head butt the wave.” Seriously, what is wrong with you?

ME: What else am I supposed to do when I’m violently attacked by water?

F: Jump above it like a normal person.

ME: Oh. Okay, from now on…

F: No. No more. You can stay by the pool.

ME: You know what? You should probably talk to someone about your controlling personality. You shouldn’t try to make your issues my issues. And you shouldn’t expect me to know everything that there is to know about violent water. I grew up in UTAH in the DESERT.

F: Which is exactly why it’s safer for you to stay by the pool.

ME: Dwayne would let me…

English: Photo of a Capybara, formatted (and s...

“LET HER HAVE ME FRANCESCO!” –DWAYNE. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


ME: Oliver learned how to “finish” with his teddy bear.

F: What do you mean by “finish?”

ME: You know. When a boy dog becomes a man dog. He’s a man dog now. And a gross one at that.

F: Are you saying that he…? THAT IS DISGUSTING!

ME: I know! I saw the whole thing!

F: And you didn’t STOP HIM?

ME: What would you like me to do? Take his girlfriend away in the middle of all that heated passion? No. That seemed invasive.

F: So what did you do instead?

ME: I watched and tried to film it but I couldn’t get the camera working. Also, he fainted after. It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever…

F: Stop talking.

ME: You’re mad at me!? Listen, I don’t want to be some weird sex person who gets involved in my dogs sex life. It’s none of my business!

F: Stop talking. I’m not mad I’m traumatized and trying to figure out how to dispose of the teddy bear without touching it.

ME: I don’t think that’s very nice.

F: Also, what is that on the floor?

Me: Uhm…


ME: Well, we both agree that it’s disgusting. Finally. We agree on something. And for the record I didn’t KNOW HE COULD REALLY FINISH!

F: Where do puppies come from?

ME: You know what, this is a conversation you should have had with your parents. It’s not my responsibility to educate you on procreation.

F: Just find a bucket and bleach and stop talking.


F: Did you do anything today?

ME: Work.

F: What kind of work?


F: And?

ME: And nothing.


ME: And I watched maybe a few shark attack videos.

F: Misty, seriously, HOW MANY did you watch? Like ALL of YouTube is highlighted!?

ME: It was for work.

F: You were writing about shark attacks?

ME: No. But LIVING is a job. And I had to research how to NOT DIE.

F: I don’t even know what to say to that.

ME: Just feel safe knowing I won’t be eaten.

Honeymoon Part 2: Phuket or Fuckit Depending On Where You’re From

Phuket Randomness

Thailand's anti-smoking campaign is much stronger than their anti-sex-worker campaign which I don't think exists. Though this image was much nicer than the packs with the rotten organs on them.

Thailand’s anti-smoking campaign is much stronger than their anti-sex-worker campaign which I don’t think exists.  This image was much nicer than the packs with the rotten organs on them.

It's a M.E. taking irritating photos of myself because I think I'm sixteen.

It’s a M.E. taking irritating photos of myself because I think I’m sixteen.

Day 6 The Beach And Phi Phi (Pee Pee) Island

Francesco was insistant on seeing Phi Phi island because he’d seen The Beach with Leo Dicaprio, like thousands of other people. I wasn’t so much against seeing Phi Phi as I was against paying money to see another island when we were already on an island. How different can two islands in the same vicinity be? I was secretly happy when we both burned a deep, future cancer causing, red and would probably “have to cancel” the trip. We had breakfast at six a.m. and Francesco, much like that depressing donkey from Winnie The Pooh (the one that ruined my childhood), said, “I really wish I didn’t get burned, I really wanted to go…” My guilt kicked in and I felt bad that he might miss out on something, regret it forever and obviously it would eat him from within and he’d die whispering, “Phi Phi” instead of, “I love you,” or, “You can finally buy that Capibara you’ve always wanted.” Now that I think about it maybe I’m just hoping that if I’m nice he’ll finally buy me one. The things one will do for a gorgeous coffee-table-sized rodent named Dwayne. After listening to him whine that we couldn’t go to Phi-Phi all through breakfast I finally suggested we go and anytime a sun activity was involved we could just drench ourselves in Nivea sunblock, (normal sunblock, not the whitening sunblock that you see all over Thailand), or hide under and umbrella with alcohol. He brightened up, “Yeah we could totally do that!”

Thirty minutes later we were crammed into a van of Australians, French, and Italians on our way to Phi-Phi which they pronounce Pee Pee. I understood why it was called Pee-Pee island as soon as we arrived because the entire island smells like a truck-stop urinal. Super Romantic. Every day thousands of people at the same fucking time stop by this island and seemingly piss all over it. The gorgeous cliffs, lush greenery and turqouis water disappears with the three billion speedboats, the smell of gasoline, and the over-heated, dimpled, water-logged representatives of every country on earth bobbing in the three square feet of speed-boat free ocean. I believe that I even saw a pygmy floating out there. The beach was so full that people were standing wild-eyed and confused as they tried to understand what to do with themselves for forty minutes. I hid under a tree.

Thanks a lot Leo for ruining Pee-Pee.

Thanks a lot Leo for ruining Pee-Pee with gross.

The problem with group tours is the “group” part. Especially when the group includes enough people fill a football stadium. After the torturous forty minutes on the beach we climbed back into our boat to drive along with twenty other boats to do snorkeling. I do not snorkel. I really want to be adventurous and I’ve always admired beach babes with their fun, careless ways but I watch too much national geographic for that. Sharks exist, are huge, with serrated teeth, and I like having arms and legs for both clapping and walking or whatever. There are hundreds of varieties of sharks many which bite people to death. So, needless to say I stood on the boat watching Francesco paddle about like he was practically presenting himself for dinner. I wondered, would I stay with him if he didn’t have legs? The answer is yes, because I could tragically explain to everyone, even people who didn’t ask, “oh, my husband? He was violently attacked by a bull shark while snorkeling in Thailand. I saw the whole thing. I told him not to go in but he’s such a free spirit, or at least he was before the wheelchair.”


Shark-bate. Also, can you see ALL THOSE FISH!?

Day 7  Motorcycles, Shanty Towns, The Big Buddha and Dumbo

We rented a scooter for three hundred B, which was like six euros for the entire day. Since we’d seen enough of the city and the beach we headed to the mountains following the long, curvy road that zig-zagged between resorts and villages, dipping into the city, before climbing up, up, up towards “Big Buddha,” a house-sized Buddha head on the top of a rolling green hills. We saw all kinds of things like rubber tree plantations, aluminum shanty towns next-door to  gold and white mansions.

Gasoline In Wine Bottles

Gasoline In Wine Bottles

Adorable muslim woman refueling our scooter.

Adorable muslim woman refueling our scooter.

"Elephant Crossing" Yeah, seriously.

“Elephant Crossing” Yeah, seriously.

And I saw elephants.

If you’re anything like me you grew up watching Dumbo and hating anyone who ever even looked at a circus with  elephants. So, I was clearly caught in a rut when I saw a chained baby elephant by the side of the road at an Elephant Trekking business (tours on the back of an elephant).  My first thought was, I shall steal the baby elephant and find its mother! My second thought, I really want to feed the baby elephant cucumbers, while doing so I can ask where its mother is. I opted for the latter because I decided the baby elephant looked hungry, and cute, and inviting. His nose was strong and his head covered with thick, long tufts of brown hair. He had long brown eyelashes that batted when he looked up at me for more cucumbers. His little foot was chained to a post and he wasn’t given more than two feet to wander. “Where is his mother?” I asked. “His mom at other place. He see her sometimes when he performs in shows. He one year.” I will punch everyone. We humans have a lot of fixing to do and luckily some people are trying to help these elephants.

Before you say anything let me add that I do understand poverty, and the complexity of these people’s lives. Yes, I do get it (in a spoiled, privileged, American kind of way). Doesn’t mean it doesn’t bum me out and it doesn’t mean that exploitation is right. Dumbo, I love you.

Dumbo and M.E. Mixed feelings of awe and my heart breaking.

Dumbo and M.E. Mixed feelings of awe and my heart breaking.

After we left Dumbo we stopped here to take a picture of the ocean surrounded by jungle. Beautiful, right?

Mountain view from our scooter

Mountain view from our scooter

After three hours of driving our little scooter up all over Phuket we finally arrived at Big Buddha. And yeah, the statue is kind of fucking huge.

Big Cement Buddha

Big Cement Buddha

Day 9 Patong

The thing about Patong is that it makes both Hangover movies seem like a Teletubbies episode by comparison. Thailand is where people go to be legally monsterous and Patong is one of the hubs for this. Drinks come in buckets, the streets are steamy with cardboard covered open sewers, and lined on both sides by dance clubs, pubs, and Go-Go’s which are basically strip clubs. Each establishment aggressively recuits alcoholics, perverts, and the terrified yet curious, to fill the seats and the dance floors. Every meter someone shoves a sign in your face that reads, “Live Ping Pong Show,” or, “Go-Go!” With a menu type list that looks like this:

Lesbian Show

Ping Pong Show

Lady-Boy Show

Nude Show

Sex Show

Hard-Core Sex Show

My personal favorite is the all lady-boy go-go clubs. Now, don’t confuse a lady-boy with a drag queen because they are not the same breed. While drag queens are often a little over-the-top and too Barbara Streisand or Cher for me, lady-boys are women. I could barely tell that they used to be men, and the men can’t tell at all. “You have to look at the adam’s apple or the feet babe. No one-hundred pound woman wears a size fourteen shoe,” I’d tell him. There is a great lady-boy club in Patong that provided more scandalous entertainment than Hustler Magazine. During a Furgie song, one lady-boy in a short, latex, red cocktail dress popped her perfectly shaped, more natural than mine, size C breasts out for pictures. Her long, black hair framing her new, obviously expensive breasts, nicely. Another lady-boy with cafe latte skin, a high ponytail and a yellow spandex dress was fanning her expertly shaped, brand-new vagina. She laughed boisterously every time she hiked up her dress to “air out” her hoo-ha. In the back of the club an elderly man through hundreds of dollars in the air and a dozen lady-boys fought to catch it. A bleach blonde from Sri-Lanka pretended that her finger was my vagina and licked it before mouthing, “Me, you, and him,” at me. By “him” she meant Francesco. I turned to Francesco, “You know, the post-op vaginas are usually totally functional. If they use intestine to shape the inside they even self lubricate. Only, their vaginas are really short, like half as deep as a normal vagina. So, yeah…” He choked on his whiskey/coke. “How the hell do you know that?” He said. “How the hell do you NOT know that?” I shrugged.

Lady-Boy Babe

Lady-Boy Babe

A small Thai girl walked by holding a Slow Loris who I subsequently named Brutus. “Do you want to take a picture with it? She asked?” I nodded and practically yanked the thing out of her hands. So, guys, I got to hold a fucking MONKEY! My life is now totally complete or at least it was until it turned rabid and tried to eat me. I was watching a lady-boy do some fancy dance moves when I felt a little tongue on my arm. I thought, “Oh, it’s licking me! So cute!” Then I realized that I was wearing rose perfume and that it thought my arm was food. Then I felt little teeth on my arm and I tried to yank the monkey off  but it started growling at me. THE BABY MONEKY IS EATING ME! The monkey owner girl waved my hand away and put her hand flat and stuck it between my arm and the monkeys teeth, then easily scooped him up. I had two tiny red marks on my arm where it tasted me. I am delicious.

Later I found out (thanks to google) that the slow-loris is endangered. DAMNIT!

To Be Continued….

Thailand: Part 1: Where Fucked Up People (or fun people) Go To Be Legally Monstrous

If you’re new here you might be wondering how Bangkok  pertains to Italy. It doesn’t but went with my italian husband so stop yelling at me.

And I know a lot of you are  waiting to hear about the Italian wedding but that will have to wait a few more days because I want to have the pictures back first. Until then you have to hear about Thailand which was a combination of The Beach and some other fucked up movie that is chaotic, with loads of surreal out-of-place characters and scenes. So basically it’s like The Beach mixed with Charlie And The Chocolate Factory mixed with Pretty Woman. Only the hookers are short and asian and there are no super attractive rich dudes who are really good guys. Just old perverts. And instead of chocolate there is rice noodles and instead of oompa loompas you have lady-boys. You get the point. Also in real life The Beach smells like urine.

Day 1 Bangkok

Francesco and I left Rome for Bangkok on May 6th. We arrived ridiculously early in the morning and were not able to check-in at our hotel for four hours, The Pullman, in Bangkok (you suck). I still kind of hate them for that. “You can lounge by the pool, though,” the front desk lady told us after a thirteen hour flight. The pool would have been totally awesome if I hadn’t stunk like airplane and wasn’t wearing pajamas. Luckily, I found the pool locker room, took a shower and used my scarf as a sort of makeshift dress so I could comfortably sleep on a sun-chair. I wasn’t wearing underwear though. I cannot put dirty panties back on after I shower (and if you can you’re gross) so I couldn’t fall asleep because I was worried that people would see my girl parts. Eventually we were allowed to enter our room and given two hours to rest before our “Buddhist Temple Tour” which I forgot about until now. Anyways, lots of big, gold, pretty buildings but I was tired and grumpy so all I remember was that it was hot and that I needed coffee but nobody would give it to me. Also, Francesco, who books an all-day-tour the day they arrive!? Freak.

Amazing Architecture In Bangkok

Amazing Architecture In Bangkok. Buddhist Temple

Woman Selling Flowers On The Street

Secret Ninja Woman Selling Flowers On The Street.

After the tour finished around five p.m. me and Francesco took  the sky metro into the city center. The area we walked through to get to the metro was total chaos and I kept thinking, “man, I totally know how those guys must have felt during Nam, if Nam were in Thailand.” Food carts everywhere, sidewalks lined with merchant carts, every inch packed with tourists and locals and prostitutes all Full Metal Jacket style (also if FMJ was about Thailand instead of Vietnam). Bangkok had really great street-shopping. If you’re ever there don’t be cheap. BUY CLOTHES. The quality is decent and I found super cute stuff for like ten bucks, such as the peach dress I’m wearing with the snake which you will see in a minute when you scroll down. Francesco went into Italian mode and I couldn’t get him to stop trying to bargain with everyone about the prices. He spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to pay fifty-cents for everything. Seriously, he’d spend an hour trying to give someone one euro for something that cost forty. Although, I’m not good at that stuff. I feel bad for the people and end up paying more than they asked in the first place. Five euros? But you look poor. Here, you know what, take ten. I am a sucker.

An interesting and random observation: The city, oddly, had two billion 7/11 stores and every inch of the street smelled like oyster sauce.

Bangkok Sky Metro. I swear I don't have a mustache. Those are very ironically placed sun spots.

Bangkok Sky Metro. I swear I don’t have a mustache. Those are very ironically placed sun spots.

Street Food. I Was Told Not To Eat It Or I Would Die.

Street Food. I Was Told Not To Eat It Or I Would Die.

Menu In The Fusion Restaurant

Menu In The Fusion Restaurant

Weird Fusion Restaurant. Notice The Waitress Is Dressed Like A French Maid.

Weird Fusion Restaurant. Notice The Waitress Is Dressed Like A French Maid.

One Night In Bangkok...blah blah blah blah blaaah blah.

One Night In Bangkok…blah blah blah blah blaaah blah.

Day 2

We took a private tour to the river market. Our tour guide, a middle-aged Thai woman, picked us up around eight a.m. in a white molester van. We drove out of the city for quite a while and I started thinking that any minute the driver could pull off into the jungle and I would be abducted and sold into sex slavery for around 3 euro 50. The door was not locked which was good. If they pulled into the bush I’d grab Francesco and we’d make a run for it.

The van slowed down and we pulled into an area full of tour vans and buses. European tourists were everywhere so it seemed legit. Francesco and I crawled out of the van and followed the guide over to an area full of fire, cauldrons, and mountains of coconut shells. Witch doctors? This, our guide instructed, is where they make coconut sugar. The old coconuts are gutted with some iron seat tool that you sit on with what seems like an iron torture device that shoots out from between your legs. You grind out the coconut “meat” with this, then other things happen to the coconut which she explained but I forgot, something about boiling and cooking in big iron witch pots. In the end the coco sugar looks like disks of carmel, which were covered in flies, all laid out on a white sheet. Our tour guide grabbed a glob of it out of a little wooden bowl that was sitting off to the side and thrust it at us. I tried a tiny piece. It was really good and tasted clean, and sweet.

Coconut Sugar Scraper/Duck Bill With Teeth

Coconut Sugar Scraper/Torture Device

We drove some more until we came to a random parking lot near a river. Fran and I followed the guide to a sort of thai speedboat thing and piled in. We cruised down the river past houses on stilts, past large lizard animals swimming, past old women swimming in the same river with the large lizard things, we whizzed down the river surrounded by lush, green jungle on both sides. Then we came to the market.

I'm Cooking On A Boat, Bitches.

I’m Cooking On A Boat, Bitches.

And then we held a snake

And then we held a snake. I am smiling but inside I’m thinking, “salmonella, SALMONELLA!”

Super cool river granny

Super cool river granny

Paddle Cruising


Later that night we went into Bangkok to explore the city again. We took a taxi to Nana. I stepped out of the taxi and  flipped the fuck out. A cockroach ran over my bare toes and a man rolling around on his stomach threw up near my other foot. We got back in the taxi and headed to a seafood restaurant that someone recommended. It was horrible. We went back to our hotel to eat, then we took a taxi back to Nana because I would not give up! Nana is a district in Bangkok which is uh, ghetto. The dead giveaway that it’s ghetto is the five million immigrant shops, and the men puking in the gutter. We found a large bar area off of the busy main street and settled onto some stools for a drink. Ah, finally! Alcohol! Dozens of strip clubs surrounded the tiki-hut bars. After our first round the prostitutes spotted Francesco and started aggressively hitting on him. “Why are you so cute, baby?” One asked. And I was all like, oooh fuck no but was equally entertained. For the first time in my life I said, “Get off my man, hoe,” and I was being totally literal. Bucket list check-off. We looked around and noticed that pretty much all the women in the area were hookers and most of them were chatting up middle-aged European men. We also noticed that about half of the girls looked teenage at best. Then, a british girl sat down on my right and introduced herself. She referred to herself as, “a not creepy dude,” randomly spoke fluent Thai, and seemed to know all the bartenders and hookers. Francesco thought that she was a lesbian hooker, but I it was pretty obvious that she was a pimp. She told me that her father owned a bunch of go-go clubs which sounds like, “my family business is the sex trade” to me. She suggested we pop into a go-go club titled, “The Pussy Mirror”, so we said goodbye and did just that. The dark club was only illuminated on the stage area where around twenty girls, mostly club danced to Thai music. They were wearing short, orange, skirts and a orange bra to match. They were not wearing underwear which is why I guess the place was called The Pussy Mirror. Inside I planned an escape route  in case huge Eastern European men were waiting outside to kidnap me for one of the pimp-girl’s go-go clubs. I figured that if I attacked first, I’d have the surprise advantage, aim for the knees and the throat, I thought. Yes, I think about this way too much, I know. We left The Pussy Mirror after one drink because the go-go girls looked really young. The dancing girls pranced around as loads of old American and European men were crowded around the stage staring, each of them bearing a caustic grin. Those kinds of men, surely fathers, brothers, sons, are the things that nightmares are made of.

When we returned to our hotel around three a.m. a hooker waited outside for the concierge to call her a cab. Then, as I peed in the foyer bathroom another hooker fixed her makeup. I tried to imagine what their lives were like and who had they been with that night? The Japanese man who I sat next to during breakfast? The Russian man who handed me a pen I dropped? Those two women were adults so it was not my business anyways or anyone’s business for that matter as long as nobody ax murdered them. I really have nothing against two consenting adults doing whatever they want. Key word: Consent.

Day 3 Phuket

We left Bangkok early the following morning feelings completely dirty and kind of like we’d contracted an STI through our eyes. We took a one hour flight to the island of Phuket in southern Thailand where we were picked up by our guides Ass and Saks. True story. We spent the first few days in Phuket lounging on Kata beach and doing absolutely nothing else. Here are a few of my journal entries from my lazy days as a beached Misty.

“Picked up in van by ass and saks, I can’t even make this shit up people. Drove for one hour to our hotel Katathani. Huge cookie-cutter resort, towel swan and orchid petals on bed to greet us. Got my period (fucking awesome) and Francesco said I have cankles because he’s rude. Bathroom has no privacy. Hm.”

“Watching baby swim. Baby is totally going to drown. I kind of hope it starts to drown to  teach the dad a lesson about neglecting his baby AND so I can rescue it. Would be a good story for blog.”

“Everyone is fat and Australian. The restaurants have pre-set menus and a BBQ night. I feel trapped in the resort from Dirty Dancing. Took a Mui Tai class, over-zealous French Sean-Claude dude spit everywhere while doing elbow hits. I will become a super ninja and pull his head off one day.”


Just As Things Are Starting To Heat Up I Cut It Off. This Post is Already Too Long So Phuket Will Be Continued Tomorrow. Stay Tuned For The Beach, Pee-Pee, Sharks,  Lady-Boys and Post-Op Vaginas, Monkeys, Elephants, And Other Things That Make Up My Day-To-Day.

The Reason That I Suck And Have Been Absent For Two Weeks: I Got Married For The Second Time (to the same dude) In Italy, And Then I Came To Thailand.

Obviously the wedding in Italy is going to be a long post about the differences and similarities of my American wedding vs. Italian wedding with an emphasis of me making fun of Italy as usual,  but that will have to wait until I return to Italy next week. Right now I have to tell you guys about Thailand because I just have to. It is a country that basically sums up my life in every way possible (except for the teenage prostitution).

1. I got to hold a mother-fucking monkey. Then it bit me after it licked off all of my rose perfume. This all took place in a lady-boy strip club. Lady-boy means  a dude who became a babe.

2. I recommend that everyone who wants fake boobs to come to Thailand to do it. The lady-boy humans have the nicest boobs I’ve ever seen in my life. I have a video for proof (coming soon).

3. Renting a motorcycle for 24 hours only cost 5 euros. While driving we saw an elephant on the side of the road eating grass. Yep, just eating some grass. I need an elephant.

4. Prostitution is not subtle here. It is not like Vegas where you have to phone a brochure. I have had to get all crazy and possessive in bars and be like, “No way HOE get off my man.” But this was a literal accusation for the first time in my life.

5. I have nicknamed Bangkok “funky town” and cannot stop singing, “won’t you take me to funky town.” Francesco is sick of me whispering it in his ear while he is trying to sleep.

6. There is oyster sauce in everything here and the streets smell like a mix between hot, oyster, and doody.

7. Bangkok has a lot of teenage hookers. Worse, the old creepy dudes who you see trying to romance the sixteen year old girls.

8. Why is this a honeymoon destination?


To be continued….