It’s less industrialised than it was.
Pretty sure they mean “industrial”, which is bad, rather than “industrialised”, which is (generally) good.
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Fixed your typo? 
Well, in either case people here certainly are industrious. 
Post-industrious.
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not really. i think the women are not dominant about things like which restaurant to go to or driving a car or something. but when it comes down to it they are no walk over thats for sure. quite a few of them run the relationship including money.
Part two of my visiting Asia for the first time story:
I’m driving with my boss in his SUV, strewn with children’s toys, silently practicing saying “aaaple” instead of “apple”. It’s around ten at night.
As we enter Taipei, I see a sudden surge of a few million scooters in a lane to the right of me. I was shocked. I thought there was some type of special occasion, like a rally for scooters or something. I’m like “Wow! Why are there so many scooters here?” Boss says “Yes, Taiwanese people are hard-working!” I fail to see the logic of that reply, but not wanting to rock the boat so early in my adventure, I reply “That’s cool”.
We arrive at our destination and go up to the apartment. There’s pretty much fuck-all inside, apart from a bloke lying spreadeagled on a makeshift couch watching CNN on a television that was probably made in the 1970’s.
The boss takes me around. “This is the washing machine. This is the fridge. This is your room. Here is your air conditioner’s remote control”. Now there’s nothing in the room, apart from a bed that looks like it was designed for midgets; mutant, ridiculously short ones. And no bedding. I’m not particularly perturbed by the lack of bedding, because it’s as baking hot as a porn star’s ass in a gang-bang scene. I am enamored with the air conditioner, though, as it’s the first I’ve ever seen and it’s MINE!
The boss leaves, and I venture forth to introduce myself to the bloke languishing on the makeshift couch.
“Hello, I’m Jimi”. He’s “Hello, I’m S___.I’m from Morocco. George Bush Jr is an utter cunt”. I say “Can’t disagree with you there. Where are our other housemates?” “They’re out drinking”, he says. “I don’t drink because I’m a Muslim”.
“Fair enough. But what’s with the taking your shoes off business?”
“You’re supposed to take your shoes off. It’s protocol here. But I don’t give a fuck if you don’t.”
I’ve just walked for five hours to the Petronas Twin Towers in baking heat and sat drinking vodka and Sprite with my new buddy, Neil, in the departure lounge at Kuala Lumpur for a further twenty. My feet smell like ten demons from the depth of the abyss. I most certainly do not want to take my shoes off out of a weird sense of social conformity. I excuse myself and go to take a bath.
I scurry to my room and switch on the marvelous air conditioner and fall asleep on my midget bed with no bedding, legs dangling over the edge.
Despite the hardships, I feel oddly relaxed and relatively calm in my new surroundings.
Guy
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I don’t get the KL part though.
Read my first post.
Guy
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That’s me right there. I was really looking forward to beaches, coconuts and my own tuktuk, but all I got was some lousy stinky tofu!
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Do they pump some drugs or something into the air to keep people serene? Maybe its the incense.
Everything on paper suggests it should be a more stressful place to live than the UK. Population density is higher, a painful death is only minutes away… etc
Someone PM me when something interesting happens in @jimipresley’s interminable serial of banality…
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I am steeped in banality, my friend. But I do thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for reading my boring, idiotic posts. 
Guy
I’m waiting for him to get beat up by scooter punks…or stalked by a psycho xiaojie at least…
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Who fuckin said I read them???
Spoiler alert.
He drinks a shed load of whisky
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Of course you read them. Don’t pretend you don’t. You love me, and I love you, too. Let’s not get too soppy about this. People will think we’re gay.
Guy
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Bhang lassi…Varanasi…