Hong Kong was made for [Food] Lovers

I have officially been in this city for five days and it’s safe to say I am completely enamored with the place. It’s like all of my favorite cities combined and the FOOD, oh my god the Food here is phenomenal. There are restaurants everywhere, literally everywhere. In old Police Headquarters that have been renovated to dark alleyways that make you question if you’re even in the right place. This post is about one of those places hidden in a dark alleyway.

Down in Central Hong Kong there is a hidden gem called The Brick House. To get there is an adventure, you wont forget.

My cousin, Jason, has always had good taste in food; even so when he told me he wanted to take me to his favorite Mexican joint in Hong Kong I was entirely skeptical of the whole idea. I lived on the boarder of Mexico for two years and had sense become a serious snob about my Tacos. Northern United States is known for it’s terrible Mexican food and I was 8005 miles from Boston, I flew over the North Pole to get here. I agreed anyway, feeling apprehensive about trying Mexican Food in a city known for it’s Dim Sum.

To get to the restaurant you first have to find the entrance, and it’s hardly obvious. When we first got to the end of the alleyway I thought we were just taking a short cut like we often did to get around the city and avoid the heavy foot traffic. At the beginning of the alley there was a much more elderly man singing in what I could only assume was Cantonese. His voice rose and dropped beautifully while his notes hung in the heavy humidity that rules Hong Kong during the summer months. As soon as I looked beyond him and further into the alley I started getting nervous. Although Hong Kong is a relatively safe city I had been living in dangerous areas the last four years that if you walked down a place like this you were asking for trouble, but I trusted Jason and knew the end goal would be worth it, and it was.

The walls leading into the restaurant are smothered in Street Art, graffiti and love notes.

Once you enter the restaurant you are greeted by a warm and welcoming atmosphere where the tables for large parties are half inside, half outside with double seating along the alleyway. The walls inside the restaurant are also covered in street art. I was in heaven. Soon I was enveloped by the life of the restaurant, the music was beachy and the Margaritas were strong. I couldn’t wait to order food and try some of their delicious looking options.

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Naturally we started with Chips and Guacamole, because no visit to any Latino restaurant is complete without copious amounts of Guacamole…. I could also live off of Guac, it’s not only my favorite but the Brick House NAILED it. Also, the Salsa? Perfect!!!!

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Best. Ceviche. Ever.

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My new best friends ❤

Now anyone who knows me knows how freaked out I am by fish or eating fish or thinking about eating fish. The first time I tried Ceviche it took my friend Caroline and her Fiancee, Forrest, to convince me that trying Ceviche was 1) not going to kill me and 2) was actually delicious. The thought of eating raw fish horrified me and I didn’t totally grasp the science that the acid of the citrus actually cooked the fish and therefor it was entirely safe to eat. After that first bite I’ve become a bit obsessed with the stuff, trying it every chance I get in places where I feel comfortable enough to eat the fish and Hong Kong is known for it’s excellent fish. Everyone eats seafood here. On first bite I was hooked on Brick House’s twist on Peruvian Ceviche and by far it is the best I’ve ever had (sorry San Diego, you’ve dropped off my Good Mexican Food Map.) Let me just make it very clear: If you are going to visit Hong Kong you have to go here. You have to try their Ceviche and have one of their Classic Margaritas.

And don’t you dare forget to try the tacos, with homemade soft shell and incredibly fresh meat you wont ever want to leave the restaurant. I demolished two before even taking the chance to really savor the taste, on the third taco I took notes and it’s safe to say their Chicken Tacos are the best Hong Kong has to offer.

So thank you Brick House for the incredible experience, I will be back before I leave for sure ❤

Disfruta!

NerdyGypsy

Roofies, let’s talk about them.

*** TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!*** This post talks about Abuse, Violence and Drug Use.

Least to say my first New Years in San Diego was a little interesting, as most of you know I work in the service industry as a host and lo-and-behold I was closing New Years. For most people in retail working New Years Eve isn’t the most terrible thing on the planet, generally you get to close early and really you can still go out for at least a little while even if you have to work early the next morning. In the restaurant when you work New Years you generally are gong to be at work until 3-5 in the morning depending on the laws regarding bar closing times in the area you are in. Also on how fucked up the Bar got because you gotta clean it.

So it’s was a pretty insured bet that I was going to see some shenanigans and sure enough they started creeping in slowly which more than quickly escalated into fully blown dance party. With in no time the DJ had the place bumping, people were REALLY getting into the dancing (if you can call some of it that *cough*TMI PDAs*cough*.) Mostly it was just a lot of “Yes you can order drinks at the bar or with a server”, “no you cannot bring your drink outside,” “No, I don’t mind working New Years Eve.” “Yes, I am being sarcastic.” But soon things started getting a little *too* exciting when a girl suddenly collapsed at the bar and became completely unresponsive. Then another girl dropped, also unresponsive. My mind of course automatically went into wonder wonder woman mode, getting someone to get water, bringing the second girl a puke bag (at least she was puking,) and taking every ounce of self control I had not to kick her boyfriend out of the bar for disorderly conduct. That self control got seriously tested when he started yelling at her and slapping her cheeks to try to wake her up, I completely lost it after I watched him pick her up from the chair and drop her on the floor. The police stepped in and dragged her away and then he had the nerve to tell me what was going to happen. I promptly told him off, and felt rather okay with the fact that he promptly got arrested for grabbing an officer and trying to rip her out of their arms.  Now as a few of you know when I was living in New Orleans I was roofied and it was terrifying, but it also gave me some insight into what roofies were and what they looked like but more importantly how to deal with them.

When I was roofied in New Orleans it was intense, but thankfully I am really in tune with my body and could tell within ten minutes that something was very, very, wrong. I took a sip of my Redbull and Vodka and cringed, it tasted salty which no alcoholic beverage should taste like unless salt or olive juice or something similar is used in the making. My first reaction was to ask Brian if it tasted funny to him, he took a super small taste and didn’t really notice anything unusual, I took another sip and put my drink on the bar. Within five minutes (now up to 15 minutes after the initial dose) of placing the drink on the bar it felt like my entire world was falling out from under me. There was absolutely no way one drink had gotten me that screwed up, I had only had two drinks at the previous bar. I immediately told Brian we had to leave, that something was wrong, and within two blocks of the bar we had been laughing in not 15 minutes ago my entire world dropped for three full days. It took me almost a week to fully physically recover, I have still not emotionally gotten past the experience.  Thankfully I had Brian there who fed me, forced me to drink more water than my body felt like it could handle and held me as I tried to get control of my body back.

These girls did not have the luxury of having themselves so in tune with their own bodies, or the understanding that this isn’t something that will never happen to you. It’s very real, very scary and shouldn’t ever happen but it does. You could turn away from your drink for just a few seconds and never know and you may not have friends near by to help you. Thankfully the first girl had her best friend with her who had no problem calling 911. The second girl was not so lucky and her boyfriend (abusive ass) was promptly arrested for his actions.  As far as I know all the people who were drugged are safe and were taken by ambulance to the ER. I really, genuinely, hope that these people are okay. I hope that girl 2 ditched the douche in red plaid, I hope that the BFF’s keep their buddy system just as strong as it was this NYE, I hope the third party got just as much help as the two girls did.

Now on the road safety is always a huge concern, after I was roofied I realized just how far I needed to take that. Since that night I have carried test strips with me to every bar I go regardless of who I know and who I am with. The thought of someone taking that kind of control from me again terrifies me, but not nearly as much as my concern that it will happen to someone else when there are ways to ensure your safety more so than if you had nothing at all. Below are a couple of links to items you can buy to test your drinks:

Color changing Straws and Cups

Color changing Test Strips

I hope everyone has a safe 2014!!!

Love always,

-Nerdy Gypsy

Just A Thought.

So I have been working on this blog post for days and I am still not sure about how I am going to say what I am going to say, but I am going to say it anyway. Recently I have been noticing a pattern in the way people talk about women and it’s been starting to give me a little bit of a headache with the amount of frustration and anger these things have been causing me; it all  started with the word: “Entitlement.” For those of you who don’t know ‘Entitlement’ means:

-the fact of having a right to something.

“full entitlement to fees and maintenance should be offered”

synonyms: right, prerogative, claim

-the amount to which a person has a right.

“annual leave entitlement”

synonyms: right, prerogative, claim

So that being said we all know some pretty entitled people in our lives, we can’t deny they are out there and to do so would be silly. However lately I’ve been hearing it in a very different light that I hadn’t considered before.

Now we’ve all heard the term “Daddy issues” and we all know what it means. Just the phrase itself feels slimy to me, it screams cop-out on so many levels and is generally only used in reference to women. Very rarely do we hear of men having these apparent ‘daddy issues’ because when Men go out and get crazy and go to strip clubs or be the best cop they can be or randomly join the military they are just ‘having fun’ or doing what they have to because a “man has got to do what a man has to do!” As soon as a woman does these things on the other hand she is generally either A) Trying too hard, B) Has Daddy Issues or C) Is too ‘Aggressive.’ Aggressive… Can you imagine that? Being too aggressive? And usually these women have all of those reasons lumped into one large pile of fuckall (Oh yeah, that’s right it makes me THAT kind of angry) as an excuse as to why they have to prove themselves in their male-dominate fields or why they just went crazy and had more sexual partners than society deems acceptable for a woman to have. I am not saying those two examples are the only instances that this term is used, I am saying I am so livid with the term that just thinking about it makes it hard for me to come up with more examples. That being said, as of late, I’ve been hearing the word Entitlement used in the SAME WAY.

It all started on a friend’s Facebook (I know, Facebook right? How lame!) She was asking if it would be okay if she texted the man she had gone out on a date with the previous night first or if she should wait for him to text her. The responses she got made my stomach turn and I felt the progress of the feminist movement slide back in time a little, people were telling her that not only did men not like aggressive women (since when is texting someone REMOTELY aggressive?!?!?!?) and that it’s good that she asked instead of just assuming that she was entitled to text him first like she had earned that right. Er… Excuse me? Does anyone else not see a problem here? I had to put my phone down and walk away from it before I threw it at the wall. How. Freaking. Dare. They.

Of course the more I thought about it, the more I realized just how often women get referred to as entitled for doing things their way. Texting your date the next day to tell them you had a lovely time is NOT entitlement, it’s communication which is a vital skill to have in a relationship. So while I can still put into words (Because angry NG does not write all that well) my thoughts and feelings, here is a list of things that don’t make you entitled!!!

  • Texting someone.
  • Asking for something when you need it.
  • Asking for help.
  • Having standards.
  • Friendzoning someone (we will get to this topic later)
  • Having goals
  • Going after what you want
  • Achieving what you want
  • Loving yourself
  • Feeling good about yourself

These things however, do make you entitled:

  • Bitching about not getting the brand newest electronic gadget because your parents refuse to drop $600 on a fucking phone that’s going to be outdated in three months anyway.
  • Thinking you have the right to treat people like shit based on their class/way they dress/ect.
  • Assuming that when you do a good thing that the entire world owes you something. You should do good things regardless of whether or not you are going to get a thank you, don’t be a dick.

There. That’s not so hard, is it? So if we could never ever use the word entitlement again incorrectly to belittle someone that’d be great. I am just saying.

NG out!!!

D’awwwwwww!!!!!

D’awwwwwww!!!!!

So when I went to Idyllwild recently I got the pleasure of meeting this handsome fellow, who I shall now name Mal. Mal is a rescue Raccoon from one of the many wild fires that rage against the California wilderness … Continue reading