Someone on Gawker the other day asked me How does one become a drunken expat writer?"
It occured to me that many of you may have the same question. So, here you go:
1. You quit your job working for Gannett when you realize that every boss at Gannett is a total tool. You kick yourself for taking 10 years to come to this realization.
2. You make sure Gannett gives you some cash when you leave so you have money for airfare, vodka and the deposit on a new apartment. Most of this money will be spent on drinks at 4 a.m. at dirty smoky clubs while you try to integrate yourself with the expat community.
3. You sign up for elance.com and start getting some freelance gigs. You quickly become shocked at how much work Indian writers will do for two bucks.
4. You learn how to say "I'm sorry, I'll have the rent next week" in French (knowing that it's illegal in France to evict you unless you are nine months behind on your rent.) This phrase, along with "Pas Possible" will become the only French you ever really need to know.
5. You practice new and creative excuses for when you are behind on your freelance gigs because drinking, fucking or doing coke seemed to make more sense than writing eBay ads on that particular day.
6. You learn to ignore the vast numbers of ways your family will ask you "When are you going to rehab?" and "When are you going to come home and get a real job?"
7. You try pastis because it's the local drink and it's dirt cheap. After about a week you realize it's so gross that only alcoholic pig farmers would ever drink it on a regular basis. This does not stop you from drinking it when you are broke.
8. You throw away your alarm clock because you will never need it again.
9. Voilla! You are now a drunken expat writer!