I forgot how complicated the procedure of dressing up can be.
I went to my boyfriend's friend wedding last Saturday & found it very tedious to dress up.
Maybe this year, that was the only time I used foundation and compact powder.
And I underestimated how long it would take me to dress up and when my boyfriend came, I'm not entirely ready. Psst... I got carried away chatting with a couple of girlfriends.
So the commotion went like this:
Shower (duh!)
Pedicured
Filed finger nails
Dried hair: pulled straight... changed mind,... took out curling iron. Got the bigger roll... didn't work as expected. Get the smaller roll. Waited in vain for 15 minutes... then realized: the switch was off. Switched it on.
Continued with pedicure.
Lotion. Lots and lots of lotion.
Looked for foundation. Scrutinized if there is an expiry date. Nope. Good. Shall I take the chance? Hell yes, there's no time to go to dept store now.
Applied foundation.
Brushed powder.
Defined eyebrows. Then realized I haven't plucked my eyebrows. Nice. Plucked eyebrow. Wondered why that my non-existent eyebrows decided to showed up together when I don't need them to show up.
Eyeshadow session.
Applied cheek blush.
Eyeliner. Held breath. Pray that I wouldn't sneeze when applying.
Mascara.
Lipstick.
Now, back to hair.
Curled, section by section. This was maybe the only time I was kinda annoyed I have so much hair.
Hairspray.
Get dressed.
Boyfriend buzzed from downstairs. Buzzed him in.
Looked for purse. Found purse. It's so small, my wallet didn't make it through.
Asked the classic question: How do I look?
Boyfriend gave the classic answer: Fabulous.
Perfume. not too much. I don't want to kill the crowd. Just enough to let people know I don't stink.
All this activities made break into sweat. My face started shining from it.
Re-applied powder.
Decided to bring the whole make-up pouch.
Grab shoes. Grab purse.
Run out from the apartment.
...
Wishing I was a man and thought of what I could have skipped the whole morning.

Maid of Honor

Before continuing this entry, I should just say, that I just scratched out all my closest male friends.
Anybody who are not willing to wear a dress will not be my maid of honor.
Period.
Plus even if they do, I think I don't want them to.

So, one of the important things I need to consider is who will be my maid of honor?
I asked a coworker for what is common and who hers was. She said: her sister.
Well, I can't ask my sister because I don't think she cares, plus my sister is 7 years older, she won't be the kind who would get giddy, be all peachy about this. She might even ask: Does this mean more work for me?
Yeah... she's the tomboy kind, plus with two kids who are constantly running and jumping around and fighting and screaming and sigh... I don't know what else, I really really don't think she's up for it.
Don't get me wrong, I know she loves me, but she is more like a male than female. NO pun intended. That's fact. I don't think her right side of brain is really working.
And so,... that leaves me my friends.
I have a bunch of friends. Well, little bunch because I'm somewhat an antisocial. But I have really close friends that are as good a sisters. Friends who've been through all the periods of my all of my ex boyfriends (till the current one), the singlehood period, the dating period till the engagement period. People who chanted my boyfriend's name hoping that I would subconsciously fell for him. People who cheered when we finally officially dating, and people who think I have a good catch. And of course, people who (with dial-up connections) logged on for emergency chatting sessions. Yes, you know who you are.
And there is also this one person, whose sincere friendship initiated her gesture to offer her place for me to crash for two months before we moved into a bigger place, lied to some people to save my ass (hah! That's all I'm going to reveal), back me out in practically everything, and despite what she always said that she bugged me and my boyfriend on our dates, she never realizes that when she left, we missed her companionship dearly. You know that cricket sound often times played as the back sound in movies to emphasize quietness? Yeah, imagine that with me and my boyfriend sitting in the sofa looking blankly to each other.
If this 'maid' should be an honorable one, then I have plenty of girlfriends. But if I have to pick one, then she is the one.
That senorita is my good old roommate.
I have asked, and she said yes. Yay!
Now,... roomie, one of us should stay sober at the bachelorette party. I'll wear that bachelorette tiara and veil, but should we do rock paper scissor for the booze? Let's have a series of apple martinis (or pina coladas for you) and dance along the old-skool beat.

Yesterday I went to Chinatown to have yummy dimsum with some old friends.
It was raining and I was late so I ran around in the apartment like crazy and bolted out, slammed the door and headed there as soon as I can.
I headed to the highway and manuvered here and there. I know that when my boyfriend read this, he's going to scold me, but whatever... he can't be that mad to me. By experience so far, I got away with almost anything with him.
I am a quite safe driver (wipe that smile out, hunny),... as long as I am not provoked.
So, I was driving fast,... but safe.
But in the middle of the trip, the highway was suddenly packed. It was pretty bad and I spent my time being stuck there thinking what could have had happened. I bet it was an accident. Well, after a while it was pretty obvious that it was indeed an accident.
BUT! It happened on the other side of the fence. On the traffic going to the other side.
Now... my side of traffic, they are just spectators who apparently just slowing down to... yes, you guess it... to watch the accident.

I have a college super best friend, her house is only about 0.2 miles away from my place and we went to school together daily with her car and driver.
Her driver's name is Marno. Marno is a funny character. He was a man with very fewww words. And his thing was that when an accident happened, he would go to the extend of slowing down - almost a full stop - and even open the window to get a better view. I'd imagine that if traffic permitted he might have changed his lane closer to the accident.

So, everybody on the road yesterday was pulling a Marno. And the traffic could've been faster if people would be more ignorant and just pass by. Wait,... did I just say that?
We'll... you know what I mean. I wish it wasn't anything serious and nobody got hurt,... but people... please hit the gas and just accelerate.
Thank you!
I was starving and the thought of dimsum brought warmth in my heart.
Ah,... dimsum has always been the highlight of many of my Sundays.

Soe Hok Gie

I just accidentially found out like last week that I am related to Soe Hok Gie, that Chinese decendent activist in the '60-ies. My mom's dad and his dad were siblings.
What do you know, eh?
Maybe that 6 degrees of seperation theory is right after all.

Anniversary

Today I'm officially dating my boyfriend for 4 years.
Can you believe that if he didn't make a move, I might still be single by now? Because I thought I was done with men. Men just gave me headache.
Today however, we didn't exchange gifts or dress up and go to a fancy dinner or exchange greetings card,... or letter.
He didn't buy me flowers or sing me a song while I also didn't cook him something special or write him a girly, corny poems (ugh... gosh, no.)
And.. uhm,.. I actually almost forgot. So did he. I thought the anniversary was tomorrow.

But so, we remembered, and went to a casual Thai dinner. He wore one of his ordinary shirt and I was with my flip flop.
And as usual, he was late (for an hour), then later made fun of how I drive, and I told him to buzz off.
We bickered about which CD to put on in the car. He won by the way, but that's because I was 'busy' driving.

It's just another day, but we laughed and we held hands.
And this crazy world makes sense again.

He makes me happy. No headache.
And I'm enjoying the joy ride of my life.

My coworkers called my sneezy (as in... Sneezy the infamous dwarf) and for all fairness I took it with light heart.
See, I am allergic to... something. I don't know what yet. And I sneeze daily, sometimes in marathon, series of sneezes, and my coworkers would shout in choir "bless you" and in between the sneezes, when I manage, I'd say thank you, and/or 'xcuse me.
This is very annoying because I love opening my window and be outdoor but I can see the pollen flying around in the air (yes, so besides pooping ducks in the air, I have to deal with the pollen too). Right now, those pollens are my number one suspect of my newly found misery.
Isn't my life weird, just when all my life I lived in one of the most polluted city in the world, and survived, I settled in this new, clean, full of forest preservation city and I developed a freaking allergy.
I took allergy medicine daily for maybe 3 weeks, then I forgot where I put my medicine and thought to myself, the heck with it. And I bravely faced the outside world, medicine free, only to find that I sneeze in longer marathon and harder volume. My sneezes created echos to the wall. And my skin start to be have reaction too.
Now, I am sneezy and scratchy.
I'm going to the doctor tomorrow.
I need to stop being sneezy even if I will be dopey.

I just have to log on and make a post out of this so I have the date mark of 06/06/06.
Happy Birthday, Damien Omen! You creepy kid.

Casimoro

Today was my last day in the office. The whole team is moving to another building 5 miles away and to a new lord/master/tyrant, or in the IT world is also known as: the client.
I don't have any attachment to my office, although I happened to have a corner desk next to a huge window. Office is just an office and actually I have been at war with my PC with its sad capability and tortoise-esque speed. So I'm pretty happy to move to a better environment with PCs with lightning speed.
I however had a hard time saying goodbye to this one little Mexican guy who's always around cleaning the beverage bar, filling up sugar container, making people's coffee.
He knows everybody's name and everyday you see him, he always smiles and be friendly and asks how people's days are.
I came to him in the afternoon and I told him that this is my last day there. He shook my hand with a concerned expression, with broken English he said " It is nice working with you, buenos Suerte... good luck".
He said "People come and people go, that is work. It is very nice knowing you."
I could feel the sincere warmth in his good bye. I wish I can say something else rather than, "like wise" Because I don't know what to say. I'm never gonna see him again. Should I say: "Oh, don't worry, I'll see you again." Or "I'll be around" Or... "Hey, let's exchange email addresses." I don't think he's internet literate. So that was a firm good bye, unless fate has some wicked twist for me, I don't think our paths will ever cross again.
When parting he shook my hand again, and he said something that I thought was another Spanish word, I said "excuse me?"
"Casimoro. That's my name."
"Oh,..." I smiled, " I always know your name."
Then I said bye and walked away.

Oh gosh,... how I hate good byes.

Most people, if not all, with blue collar occupations are invisible. And the rest of us just never bother to greet them, or acknowledge them, or get to know them. The doormen, the cleaning ladies, the bag ladies, the bus boys of the world.
And Casimoro, he persistently offers friendship to people instead of waiting for friendship to come his way. And I'm so so so so so so so glad he did.
I'm pleased to know him.
I'm touched.
I'm humbled.
It's a privilege.

Que Tenga una vida maravillosa, Casimoro.

I have been noticing this for quite a while now that my windows are facing the direction of O'Hare International Airport. The distance between us is actually 20 something miles away and I can't actually see the airport, but everyday that I sit on this chair (aka my throne) where I do my daily interaction with the outside world through the gate of internet, I can see the planes passing by, slowing down, shifting lower and lower. Then I would just stare and guess where it came from?
Is it from Hawaii?
From Tokyo?
From Rio?
From Rome?
From Vegas?

Then a story contemplated in my head. This plane came from Rio. The people inside it just had the vacation of their life. There, it's sunny and beautiful, the sand is white, the ocean can't be any bluer, coconut trees are everywhere. And none of them has coconut fruit (because it can hit your head and that wouldn't be the vacation of your life anymore). The pina colada there is unsurpassed. People wear sarong and sunglasses. The hotels are gorgeous and the clubs are awesome, they have the best apple martinis.
Then the song "Down in Brazil" played mentally in my head "Down in Brazil, it takes a day to walk a mile, time just stand still..."

Then another plane passed by.
Now this one came from Tokyo, They have the best sushi there, I went there once,... and I went to this one beautiful temple and drank water from the well there. Legend has it that if you drink the water, and make a wish, then your wish will come true.
I made a wish there, but I can't, for the life of me, remember what it was.
I want to go there again and make another wish. This time I'll make a note and put it in my wallet.

Sigh... I crave having a vacation.

Finally the heat has died down this evening and the sky granted us some rain.
I opened up my windows and welcomed the winds to blow in. I pressed my nose against the screen to catch a glimpse of Chicago skyline to no avail. The rain blocked my view.
It's till hot and humid, but it's better than yesterday. I think I'm allergic to my own sweat, and I spent the day yesterday scratching my head.
Anyhow, my day was okay. I forgot that my boss was on vacation and spent the first few hours of my morning wondering where he was.
Is that a sign of getting old or stress?
I hope none of the above. I hope it's just the effect of the long memorial day weekend.
Speaking of getting old, I found a strand of grey hair about 3 weeks ago. I plugged it out and took a good look at it before I threw it out. The base was black, then about an inch or two it went totally white, then it's black again.
It's one confused grey hair.
Again, is that a sign of getting old, or stress?
Now, speaking of stress, I shoot some hoops with my boyfriend yesterday at a nearby park. It was pretty de-stressful. Then I found some swings in the playground next to it.
Guess what I did.
You got it.
I rode the swing.
It was even more relaxing than spa.
There was this kind of de ja vu-ish kind of feeling when I rode it. Something that felt so familiar, the tingling feeling in your stomach, the rush of wind combing through your hair. The beat that's skipped from your heart when you swing down from the highest point. It was very juvenile. My heart was pounding with excitement.
Never underestimate the joy of swing.
Getting older, I notice that I'm more afraid of height then when I was a teenager. Especially then my boyfriend pushed me from behind and I swung harder than Tarzan.

Yesterday, I found my forgotten inner child, thank God I haven't lost it.

Yesterday I was looking for some air filter for my car at Walmart and was going through the list to find my type of car & what type the air filter should be, when all of a sudden, I guy ask me in a raspy scratchy voice "Do you need any help finding anything?"
At first I thought he worked for Walmart, but, no worker at Walmart would wear jeans to work and have no name tag, don't you think?
So, the bitch inside of me starting to react and I just said "I'll find it." without even looked at him and just kept on staring at the list.
Then he said okay and left, which then lead to me feeling bad for being 'not nice'.
But after 2-3 minutes later he showed up again and I was still there with the list and he asked again "Are you sure you don't need any help with that?"
Now, okay...
FIRST OF ALL!!! I said I'll find it and that should leave to a conclusion that I don't need any help, even though after minutes later I was still not done with the list.
SECONDLY!!! And this is kind of personal, but, I don't like being asked again and again whether I need help with something because I am not some bimbo who thinks that buffaloes have wings and mistakes tuna for chicken. Do I look stupid or what? It's air filter list, not rocket science.
And If I don't find it then I will ask someone who officially work for Walmart with blue apron with slogan "HOW CAN I HELP YOU?" who's not creepy looking.
So, I looked at him straight in the eyes, paused for a second to make sure that this time he heard it and said... "No."
He smiled and shrugged and tilted his head to the side and said "Okay", like it is natural to go to a store and insist people to take his help.
CREEEEPY!
The eastern culture inside of me said that I have to be nice to people, but sometimes when you are nice to people, the creepy strangers would just work their way into a conversation or something and man, I'm just not up for that.
And I am a nice person, believe it or not. Just don't press my button, that's how my roommate describe it.

Then later on I told my boyfriend about the creep and he said "do you wear this shirt when you went to Walmart?"
"Yes."
He smiled and said only one sentence "Then, that's why he was so into making conversation with you."

I wore a low cut tank top.

Sigh... the different perspectives of male and female.

I am nervous about my wedding. Very very nervous.
Not cold feet about it, but more like, nervous about all the things that I actually need to take care of, and haven't yet.
And as if, one wedding is not enough, I might have two receptions and two different church ceremonies. My mom wants to invite 1000 people and I'm fighting for 500 people.
Still fighting. It ain't over till it's over.
And I don't want the conventional kind of wedding where you stand for hours greeting people that you hardly know and after 3 hours, your feet are sore and your hand smells like grilled mutton.
I want to sit.
And eat.
And listen to the music.
And be able to talk with my groom, and not being under the hot spotlight.
I want a small wedding. The smaller the better. What matters to me is the people I know. And the flowers. And the music, and the food. But not the quantity of how many people I manage to invite.
If it is up to me, then I bet we'd just elope to Vegas, take a lot of pictures as proof, then go straight to the honeymoon.
Then we'll just post an ad in the local newspaper saying:

We did it!
BlueCactus and Dimcorner have eloped!
Don't bother calling us to congratulate, because right now we are sunbathing in the Caribbean.

Ah.... that would be perrrrrfect. Very tempting. Because honestly, I don't care what people think.
But, being a good daughter that I am (wink), I care about my parents' feeling.
And because of that, I have to wake up now and go back to reality and plan the two receptions and the two church ceremonies (which leads to two dresses, and many other twos).

I fell asleep earlier today & woke up in panic when I saw the bedside clock said 8:07, and I thought I missed worked.
But, after consciousness sank in, I realized that it is 8:07 PM. Not AM.
Sigh... yeah, that's what happens when you being a lazy ass on Sunday.
It's funny now that I think about it. The first thing that came to mind was: I need to call in and tell someone that I'm going to be late. Now, what the best excuse for me being late?
Hmmmppfff... excuse... excuse...

But you know, today is not too bad since I went to this pottery painting place. I just have to find a hobby... that's what I thought to myself, before I become challange-less, drive-less, shower-less couch potato.
It turned out that I had so much fun there. I thought I have fulfilled the purpose of Sunday, which is to think nothing of work and throw away money for nothing really important. Like the pottery that I painted, which was a cereal bowl.
And I don't eat cereal.

Speaking of throwing money away, isn't it funny that when you walk in a store determined to buy something, most likely you won't find what you're looking for? And when you just walk to a mall with no expectations, you walk out with something that wasn't in your agenda... like a dark pink strapless dress that's on sale, the last one in the store, and in your size. AND when you tried it on 'just for the heck of it' you stare in the mirror thinking, "this freaking dress was made especially for me." "This dress looks fabulous on me. NO! I look fabulous in this dress" "Crap! Now I have to buy it. Now... let's think... where can I wear this dress to?" "Argh, doesn't matter, ... I'll think of an occasion to wear this dress to".

I guess, each one of us have what they call suppressed memories. The memories that we choose not to remember and bury deep down our subconscious mind.
I think that's what I thought happen to the memory of me putting my dog to sleep. My dog's name was Panda. No, it's not a panda, it's a dog named Panda.
And he grew older we called him grandpa instead.
So, there I was, watching Grey's Anatomy when Grey had to put the dog to sleep. And that dog just looked like Grandpa. And the vet injected it with the drug to stop its heart. Just like my vet did to Grandpa.
I was staring at it and all of a sudden, memories came rushing and flashing before my eyes.
I was crying in the doctor's office. My dad held me. Grandpa was lying with a big fat needle stuck right into his heart. And I could see it moving with the rhythm of his breathing until it finally stopped.
And I carried the body home in a box. And I couldn't stop crying for the rest of the day.
Then, I tried to move on & buried the horrid memory of the visit to the vet, until today.
He was a good dog. Grandpa. He liked mango and stir fry vegetables, believe it or not. He had pink nose and curled up tail. He was handsome, and I think, I should think of him more. Not the sick part, but the happy part.
I hate corny things, but I have to say, that every time my dog died, I grow a hole in my heart, with the shaped of it. And, as time goes by, I found that the pain was just ignored, but never really disappeared. Just like I found out today.
I looked at my blog and thought of how it is so full of memoirs of my dead dogs.
Like a memorial site or something. But they are my darlings. I told my boyfriend just now, that I have decided to not have dogs anymore. For the rest of my life. I don't know if I'm going to stick by it, but I can't go to the vet with a scenario like that again. Ever. And I won't let my boyfriend have the same experience.
And now, I still have two more at home in Jakarta. Two 104-year-old dogs.
If they are human, guess how high their insurance rate is?
Yeah... exactly my thought.

Dave Spritz: The first time I was struck with something, a chicken breast from Kenny Rogers. I was standing next to a garbage pail. I thought it might've been an accident, that they were throwing it out. The second time, it hit me square on the chin, a soft taco. Then, pop. A falafel. McNuggets. Always fast food. Fast food. Shit people would rather throw out than finish. It's easy. It tastes all right, but it doesn't really provide you any nourishment
[pause]

Dave Spritz: I'm fast food.

-The Weather Man-

I found this line very funny. But... should I say that when I am working for a fast food company?

The Constant Gardener

I watched the Constant Gardener last week and to my surprise, it was a very inspiring movie. There was, however, no entertainment value. There is no Hollywood ending whatsoever, it's not a feel good movie, you will feel like crap, depressed and sad altogether afterwards. And if you are Angelina Jolie, maybe you will start adopting more children from Africa.
Every time I watch a movie that arises the issues in Africa, I always feel depressed, and ashamed of all the petty little complaints I have about life. There are just so many things to be done there, and yet, there is no oil, or other kind of beneficial resources for the super power countries worth fighting for and interfering to. Let alone the reason of humanity.
And there I was, sitting in front of my TV. Depressed and sad, and I looked at the clock, oh... 9 PM, Grey's Anatomy will start in no time.
And life goes on.
People see the movie, got the message, feel touched by it, but then... what to do?
So there we are, me and the rest of the world, in our little bubbled world, and the Africans with their poverty, hunger, health and welfare issues, living in parallel and uncrossed paths.

As Urban As You Can Get

Quoting my boyfriend about Naperville, IL: "This is as urban as you can get in the suburb." We went there and spent our evening just walking on the riverside & downtown & taking pictures.

We saw the Budwiser's horse (I don't know why this is such a big deal, but moving on...) and I touched the horse while my boyfriend took a picture. I was smiling but my mind was thinking, please, horsey, please... please don't pee or poop while I'm just inches away from you.

It's a big beautiful horse. I love seeing animals that are well kept & healthy. The horse looked like it has enough food, enough bath, enough tender love and care. It brings warmth to my heart.
I heart animals, with the exception of bugs and reptiles.

Downtown Craving

I don't know why all of a sudden I missed downtown so much. I was walking on the parking lot. It was past 6 PM and all my work was done. Today was a beautiful day, a bit cool, but still in a comfortable range. The sun was still shining, the sky was blue. It was a perfect afternoon.
I got into my car, opened the windows turned on the radio, and I sat there. For a few minutes, just trying to empty my mind and get settled.

Then I thought, how perfect it would be, if I live in downtown. I could go home, wear my gym shoes and just walk a few block to the beach. Not to do some workout (gee, no), but just to get some fresh air and shake off my work stress of my system.
I remember that I and my boyfriend planned to wait for the summer then rent some bikes and bike on the lake shore. But now that I moved here, I don't think we're going to drive for 25 miles, then try to find parking for another 30-60 minutes, walk to Navy pier, then rent a bike. Yeah, ain't going to happen.

My life is funny, when I lived in downtown, I lived in a budget and hence, couldn't get out more and lavishly 'enjoy life'. Classic story of a student/fresh graduate. And now, I have my income, but my form of recreation is going to a forest preserve and take some pictures. Or to the zoo and get really excited to see a lion.
I really really R E A L L Y miss downtown, honestly sometimes it hurts when I drove down there, just passing by the streets that I used to walk along with my friends, the stores that I used to visit or the crappy chinese restaurant which the lady owner was very fond of my roommate.
Having memories can be a bitch sometimes, but then again, this comes from me, a person who doesn't like being all sentimental or, maybe I should say, doesn't like to appear sentimental.

So, a few weeks ago, I went to the pancake house near my old apartment, and guess where we got the parking spot? Right on the side of the apartment building. That apartment is the nicest amongst all of the other apartment I've been in Chicago. Usually, I refused to think much of it, like I said,... it hurts.
But that day, I was just all eyes and ears. I found out that the little french bistro across the street was out of business. Well, I wasn't really 'wow-ed' when eating there, but it was kind of sad to see something that was part of your life start changing. Like you part ways with your closest friends and 5 years later, they already have kids or move to Europe or has become the big shot director of a huge company, and you just wonder, what happened in between? Then you start to wonder how much you guys have missed?
So anyway, I managed to brace my heart and I went into the apartment, I just had to see who's the doorman that day. And there he was, Roland, the big guy with the big smile. He paused for a second when he saw me, then he rushed towards me and gave me a great bear hug.
Roland is a very nice man. It is just impossible dislike him.

I really miss being just one block away from bars and clubs. Not that I went a lot, but the spirit of it, the beat, the honking, the siren, all the noises, made you feel like you were a part of the fiesta.

I really want to go back to the city.
Though I know, that my 'downtown' era has passed. It's really over.
Like the finale of 'Friends' where Monica moved to the suburb. I bet she felt crappy.
Just like I felt.
Sigh...
Enough drama. I need to move on.

Should I join the rally?

I'm not the kind of person who pays attention to the news or politics, but I can't help but feeling intrigue by the Immigrant Rights issue that divide the Nation lately.
I listened to a girl on the radio about a week or two ago, ranting about immigrants.
She said "I'm not racist, but I really don't like it when I go to a certain area all the store signs are in Spanish. I mean, if they want to be in America, well then, speak English."
You see, all my life, I have been an immigrant. Or maybe I should say, the descendant of immigrants. I lived in Indonesia as a Chinese. I was a second class citizen. Then I moved to the US, and I'm still an immigrant. If I move to China, I can't assimilate with the native people anymore. Even there, I bet I will still be considered as an immigrant, I can't speak mandarin. See my problem? Seems like there is no 'home' for me in this world.
So, when I heard that girl on the radio, trying to justify her point of view by prefix-ing her remark the the words: "I'm not a racist" All I can think of was: Big fat liar. If she doesn't care about the race, why should she care about the signs? Why does she so bothered by them? I don't. Signs are just a miniscule problem here.

I saw Carlos Mencia today on TV. I love his stupid jokes. This time he invited an red-Indian guy to the show. And that Red Indian guy said that his colony was here first. Everybody else after them are immigrants.
In his version, everybody in America is a wetback.
I like that point of view. In fact, I've been thinking the same way. All this fuss about immigrants from the people whose anchestors originally were immigrants, it's just funny.
I know, that America does have a problem with illegal immigrants, but there should be a way out rather can prosecuting the diligent, hard-working people, who work for minimum wage, trying to have a better life for himself, his wife and kids.

So, I, the ultimate immigrant, hope that the STUPID bill will never be passed.
There I said it. I choose my side. And those who don't agree, feel free to talk back.

Okay,...
Enough with the short hair.
I'm growing it back. So I can do that good old trick of making a bun using a pencil that almost everybody went ooooh and aaaah about.
It might take me years, though.
And by that time I might already change my mind for the gazillion time about my hairdo.

Man, I'm so bored I even mopped the floor today.

I slept.
I woke up.
I looked out to the window.
I saw how gloomy the day will be.
I decided to go back to bed.

I'm signing off.

This is going to be another wasteful Sunday, I'm sure.

I need a hobby.

Huffing and Puffing

I just talked on the phone to one of my best friends. One topic lead to another, then we talked about smoking and that somebody's aunt died not too long ago of lung cancer. She wasn't a smoker. Ever.
She was a second-hand smoker.
See, here is the thing. I don't care if people smoke. You can smoke all day, huff and puff all you want, I don't care.
And I don't care if the person is a female, or male, or under 21, or old, or cute, or whatever. His/her lung is his/her own business. He can burn it, drown it or donate it for all I care.
But I mind if I have to share air with the smokers while they are polluting it with their cigarettes / cigars.
That's just gross.
For me having to inhale that intoxicating air & risk my lung is unacceptable. My laziness for not working out or watcing out my diet is bad enough without me having to worry about my lungs.

My dad was an ex-smoker, my brother was an ex-smoker, my boyfriend was an ex-smoker, and I'm glad they quit, especially my dad who had been smoking for about 30 years. I bet it was hard as heck for him to quit, but he did. He's a living proof that it can be done. I'm very proud of him.
I never really appreciate his quiting smoking until I was old enough and informed enough how severe the damage can be, not only to him but potentially to the people surrounding him, like my mom or me or God forbid, my precious nephews.
And for that I thank him.
So, rather than buying cigarettes, donate it, or buy some new underwear. Imagine how many underwear you can buy in a year from the fund you allocate to buy cigarettes. You will never have to do underwear laundry ever again. Just toss it out after you wear it.
Oh, I know, buy an air purifier, I bet the smell sticks everywhere.
Bottom line, don't wait till it's too late. That's all I learnt today.
I bet it's hard. But I also bet it worth it.

*Dedicated to someone who is really close to my heart and to some others' hearts, who are also close to my heart*
(Got it?)

Flying poop

Holy Cow.
Today when walking at the parking lot, I saw a couple of duck flying and quacking and one of them just pooped right up in the air. Big poops just flung down to a car and I ran to the side, trying to avoid their path so they didn't pass my head.
Crazy psychopath duck!
With poop that big, it's a crime to fly.
Lesson learnt: Never trust anything flying. Not even a cute harmless-looking duck. Their poop is 10 times bigger than the birds'.
If the italians say it's good luck being pooped by a bird, imagine how lucky you'd be when the duck poop lands on your head.

My Side Job

Brace yourself.
I'm going to reveal my other secret occupations.
I
am
a
Tarot
reader.
...
Don't laugh, I'm freaking serious. I've been doing this for years. My cards was brought from Netherlands, it's a french Tarot.
Am I good at it?
Mmmaaaayybeeee.
Maybe not.
But who cares? Because I'm signing off. I have faith in it. I believe in it and put effort in learning it. My mom is a great fortune teller. She has talent that I will never have, not in a million years. But I don't want to be a Tarot reader anymore.
Because some people just abuse my free time.
I just told my roommate the other day, some friends just take it for granted. All they look forward when meeting me is for sessions over sessions of tarot reading. Honestly, I think, they don't need my cards.
They'll do just fine.
The right man will come, the right job will fall on their path, the right decisions will be made, the business will do well, the year is going to be great. Because the future holds thousands of possibilities. They don't need my cards just to ask if the cute guy they just met is 'da one'.
And if you happen to fall for a jerk. You don't need my card to tell you that you deserve to find someone better. My cards are just the explicit affirmation of their subconsciousness. Something that they already have in the back of their mind. They just need a push to kick the jerk in the ... (you know what), leave him on the curb and start living their lives. (Am I being too hard?)
I try to live with uncertainty. It's hard, when you know that you might find an answer from the 'third drawer from the top' (there's where I keep my cards). Or from your mom, who practically owns a mental crystal ball. I do ask questions, but I barely do. Only in dire emergency.
I was 'fortune-told' too much during my adolescent time. Believe me, knowing less is better than more, especially when we are talking about the future. The element of surprise brings color to your life. Don't you think?
I almost never shuffle for myself. I did. But almost never. Only for problems I can't control, like if my job is in jeopardy, because if yes, then I might want to start hustling for another job or be prepared to go back home.

So, I'll tell them, I'm converting to be a the ultimate solitaire champion.
Or a mud wrestler... nah, just kidding. Obviously, for a potential obsessive-compulsive like me, that's just gross.

Earth day

I bet you know that 'Mercy Mercy Me' by Marvin Gaye is a song about ecology and how mankind abuse it. Well, every time I hear the song, there's a part of it that reminds me of the all the sushi I ate, all the pollution I've sucked in and the land being commercialized for the new, the better, the bigger, the higher highrises.

I'm not the green-peace kind of person, but I do love nature and its habitat.

It is so sad to see the earth is going down being abused by mankind.
So, to honor Earth day, when Scarlett was ever so dirty yesterday, I didn't go to the car wash place & bathe her.
Besides, I've always been trying not to use air conditioning as much as I can, or let the water runs when I brush my teeth. And thanks to my boyfriend, I recycle paper waste now.

I'm kinda a pessimist at times, and i know that my contribution might be meaningless at all compared to all the damage done at the same time. But, heck, that's something I think I can do. And that makes me feel slightly better.

"...
Where did all the blue skies go?
Poison is the wind that blows from the north and south and east
Woo mercy, mercy me, mercy father
Ah things ain't what they used to be, no no
Oil wasted on the ocean and upon our seas, fish full of mercury
Ah oh mercy, mercy me
...
Radiation under ground and in the sky
Animals and birds who live nearby are dying
...
What about this overcrowded land
How much more abuse from man can she stand?
..."

A gal pal is on the search

It hit me today, that I no longer has girlfriend bonding to any females, except for my coworkers (doesn't count) and my mom (also doesn't count).
My roommate moved a year ago back to the other side of the world. I moved out from my 'hood and my friends.
And now, I have no girlfriends.
I mean, I have girlfriends, but not the one that I can physically meet up easily for Sunday brunch or something.
And now, I haven't called my boyfriend since afternoon, I don't know where he is, I think his cellphone is dead and he told me that he's going to be out but I think his business is not done yet.
Then, it dawn to me, that my boyfriend has been bearing the double duty as my galpal.
Although, I don't exactly push him to go into Victoria Secret spent hours there.

And besides, I think sometimes I got the feeling that he doesn't really 'get it' when I talked about some issues, like my bitching out about how my day went, or when I was being PMSy and sensitive and cranky. But he does try to fill that role.
But now I'm wondering if I'm pushing my luck too far.
And if he has too much of me.

I guess I'll never know, because he would say no. And I would always wonder if that's the truth.

Ideally, I should find some girlfriends. And I should run an ad, just like those people in craigslist.org.
And when I manage to stir the courage to do so, I imagine the ad should say something like this:
Looking for a gal pal, who's witty, bitchy, spunky. Doesn't like boy bands. Likes to eat out and doesn't count calories on everything. Non smoker, loves autumn and animals. A good listener, a good debater and opinionated, in a good way.
Only need a liiiiittle time to dress up, take a shower and put on the make up.
Likes watching TV. Have good knowledge on pop culture. Must dislike Bush.
Not a fashion victim, and most importantly can distinguish the stupid chick-flicks and the high quality ones.
P.S. Doesn't have Damsel in distress syndrome. Superwoman syndrome is higly welcomed.

How about that?

Tom Attack Reloaded

Eeeeeeng...
Man!
Apparently, if your life is touched by television, internet, radio and or newspapers, I BETCHA by now you already know that the Tom & Katie's baby was born yesterday.
It was allll over the news. I really can feel the deja vu attack back in the time when they first got together and did the same damage to my couch-potato time.
Sigh... anyway, I'm sticking with home and garden channel for a few days before I dare to move back to E entertainment.
I mean, who cares if Katie is having a 'silent birth'? Or if that very same day at the very same hospital, Brooke Shields (Tom's rivalry when it comes down to anti-depressant drugs) also delivered her baby.
See?
Do you see that?
I don't want to know about this, and yet, sadly, I do.
Why?
Because I've been shoved all this information from everywhere.
Is it really a rating booster?
Does people really want to know what the baby's name means in Hebrew?
Anyway... I need another hobby besides watching TV.
Knitting?
Bingo?
Any ideas?

Guilty. I voted for American Idol

I voted for Elliot Yamin. Upon request from my best girlfriend back in Indonesia.
Yep, shameless as a starstruck teenager, I dialed and dialed, until my boyfriend called me and I got distracted.
I voted for 14 times (or so) and I already felt like I have contributed a lot for the dude.
And he still got to the bottom three.
What a voter gotta do?
Anyway, you see, I don't usually vote.
I don't vote for American Idol, I don't want to be in the crowd. Be generic. Join the hype. This is so not like me, the ignorant, antisocial, careless, cynical bitch.
But this guy, he is okay.
And what made me easily agreed to vote for him is one simple fact.
About maybe 5-6 weeks ago, he sang Moody's Mood.
That's it. One of my favorite songs in this planet (search it, it's worth your time, or send me a message I will send it to you).
So, anyone who sang the whole song of Moody's mood and succeeded without being pitchy, deserves my vote.
Because I know from the many times I sang that song in the shower.
I sucked!
That song is hard to sing.

Anyhow, though, here is my reality check about American Idol: Elliot Yamin will not win. Why? Because he is not bad-boyish, handsome or tall enough.
Can he sing?
Yes, he damn well can, and so does Mendisa in this matter, who got booted off last week.
But should this be a contest about singing talent?
No, this is a thug of war contest of whose fans' fingers dial the fastest.
Plus, I know that there's a community whose whole purpose is to vote the worst singers. Maybe that's why that juvenile contestant who looks like Chicken Little lasted that far.
So who might win? It doesn't matter.
I think who will win is FOX Network Executives.
And Cingular as the phone network provider.
And I'm one of the victims, who next week will still be voting again, as appreciation for the singer of Moody's Mood, even though it might not matter at all.

To see the 'moody's mood' performance: click here

My very own JFK Jr.

Never in my romance life would I thought that my parents who have very high expectation to all to the boyfriends I have had (which, by the way, not much), would approve a guy to marry me.
This topic might seem a little jaded since I've been engaged for almost a year now. But I have had the hardest time with them since their first reaction to all of them has always been the same, which is: NO. We do not approve.
My parents wished someone stable for me, independent, a gentleman, love me obsessively, faithful, a Catholic, have short hair (I once had a boyfriend with long hair, I didn't like it, but apparently, my mom hated it even more), came from a nice family, well-educated, good-look is a plus, preferably a little bit older than me (and by the way, I've never dated anyone older than me, isn't weird?), and so on, and so on.
I remember telling my roommate once, with that criteria, then I might have a chance if I date John F Kennedy Jr. But he got lost in the sea. Plus he's married anyway. And, I'm not sure if he loves me obsessively since we never met, and the faithful part is kinda questionable.
Then, came my fiance, he is not even Catholic (gasssppp!!), he's a few months younger than me (that's strike two already), and many more questions were risen.
But, after all the commotion, and they met on Summer 2004, I don't know how he won them, but now, when they sends gifts from Indonesia, he gets more stuff then me.
My dad sends text messages to him every once in a while. My mom asks about him all the time.
I mean, how the heck does that happen?
It seems like they are very fond of him.
Like yesterday, they sent him 2 shirts, 4 Adidas hats, a Brazil soccer wrist band, and what do I get?
Nutin'
Nada.
Zero.
I think I'm going to veto the wrist band.
Apparently, he is my parents' version of John F Kennedy Jr.

Let me be a loner

I notice that I have turned into a total antisocial. Especially since I don't have a roommate and I don't have any friends in the area, now that I'm in the suburb.
And I find it amazing how I don't feel the urge to find new friends. I'm most comfortable with the friends I have downtown (and half around the world), which by the way are very very few. And I don't even get in touch with them that much at all.

A friend, who is the most enthusiastic in introducing me with his friends is almost in a desperate - if not angry - state because I always refuse to come to their get together.
Why does he insist on me meeting them?
It is my right not the be pushed around being introduced to people while I don't feel the thrill or the enjoyment to meet them. Some people like meeting new friends and, hey, more power to them if they do, but that's not me.
Do I sound arrogant?
But think about it. Being arrogant is if I don't want to meet them because I feel superior and I think that my 'level' is above them. Which I do not.
I think they are just fine. I just have a very huge personal bubble.
I wish more people would just understand and let me be.
And please don't call me strange.

I try to analyze if I'm scared of meeting new people. The thing is I don't think so.
I went to social events when I want to. If a friend is having a baby shower, or a Christmas party, or if there's food involved, and I feel like going, then I'd go. I arranged the chinese new year's eve dinner with of my friends, though I (and my boyfriend) were the only two who were celebrating. So I really think I'm fine.
I'm just a person who really enjoys spending her free time not interacting too much with other human beings.
I'm a loner.
And I am happy of who I am.

Kentucky Fried Cruelty

Isn't it sad that one of my guilty pleasure food is Kentucky Fried Chicken, who happens to be one of the most hated fast food by PETA (google it if you don't know who they are)? I just read how they handle the chicken and I was shocked to the core. The abuse of the chicken is totally beyond believe. How the heeeeeelllll do they do it? Removing the beak off the chicken so that they won't attack each other and slitting the throat while they are still concious and are able to feel the pain.
And they freaking scald the chicken alive in tanks of HOT WATER.
O my God.
Are they freaking crazy????
I let a lady bug live in my apartment on winter though I'm phobic to flying bugs, while they are playing Texas Chainsaw Massacre with the chicken.
If you believe in reincarnation, don't you start to wonder what the next life will be for those farm slaughter house operators? I'm putting my money on them born as a KFC chick.
Karma is a bitch.
I'm not eating meat tomorrow.
And though not intentionally, I didn't eat meat the whole day today. I'm so proud of myself. One baby step at a time.

For full story, go here and weep: http://www.kentuckyfriedcruelty.com/kfcsays.asp

105 years

Both my dogs are sick, and I'm so damn worried because, they're like my babies. The doctor has diagnosed one of them of a heart problem, and I don't know what's wrong about the other one yet. I pray to God, please God, if you have to take them, don't make them suffer beforehand. Let them die in their sleep and preferably after a very good meal. I am devestated now because I forgot to kiss them goodbye before I went back here. I was late and just stormed out with my luggages without giving them a hug and a kiss.This apparently has become a habbit, the storming out without kissing them goodbye.
I know it's about time because 15 years times 7 dog year yields 105 years (my my, aren't we old.) and I should be prepared, and yet, I am not.
They have gone through most (if not all) adolecense period of my life, including the period when I cried behind closed door for whatever reasons.
They have also barked on all of my exes, become friends with them and forgot about them because I broke up with them. Boy, they should've barked some more. The irony is, they haven't barked on my future husband yet. The one that they should've really barked on then made friends with.
Despite that, I don't wish them to have longer and longer life, I don't know if they are tired of it anymore, being sick like that, I just wish them a peaceful 'let-go'. And I will deal my pain when they leave. And eventually I will be fine, as long as they leave without suffering.
I hope God forgive the white one, for all the mice she had killed in the past. I think it's the only form of recreation one can have behind 6 foot high fences. And also forgive the black one, for all the human calves he had sinked his teeth in. No, wait, that was also the white one.
Of all my life, they are the creatures that have given me the kind of unconditional adoration and love and forever I will look back and cherish every single lick they have given me, as stinky as it might be.
Sigh...
And just now, the pain starts crawling in my chest and I just want to bury my face in my pillows.

These past weeks I'm busy like crazy at work. I wish I have more time to send news to my friends and family, but what can I say? I'm a work slave. This will be over next week though and the 'torch' will be passed to another victim to do the 'weekend and night on-call' rotation.
I've been thinking about all the things I need to catch up to live up to that "Work hard play harder" phrase. He he he (cunning laugh).

Anyway, I have been lobbying my way to my parents on my wedding, especially the particular battle about how many guests to invite. She wanted a total of a thousand guests, and I nearly fainted when I first heard it.
I bid for 5 hundred max. Including our humongous extended family members. Let me tell you something quite frankly, I have more aunts than uncles just because most of my uncles got married more than once. And that, my friend, is why I have so many relatives (aside from the fact that contraceptives were not easily accessible at that time,... I guess).

So, after months and months of not talking about the wedding, the topic crawled up and my mom was actually warming up about the idea of 500 people and started to see my point of view, because I told her, I'd rather have small one but full of people I know than a big one with people I've never seen in my life. I want it to be personal and memorable.
Thinking that this problem was solved, I emailed my dad for him to start doing his guest list. and his reply was: No problem, I'll invite my business friends, so I think we're good for about a thousand people.
Oy...!

Even the demon spitted it out

Let me tell you a story about a demon that bit my mom's hand.
The story goes like this: A demon approached my mom, and then out of the blue he just bit her hand, ... wait, I think it's her arm instead.
Then he chewed it a bit, but then spit it out.
He grumbled: "Ugh,... it's not tasty!"
And then he left.
And my mom woke up.

And hence the story about my mom got bitten by a bloody ass demon.

So I told her that she needs to eat more fatty food and gain weight, she's so fat-less that there is no juice in her meat.

'Almost' is the keyword

I almost got hit by a car over the weekend, and that was my fault.
I didn't even look in the mirror when going out from my parking spot.
That's what I do when I'm emo.
Total self destruction.
I was having fight with my boyfriend that time just because I was stubborn and short tempered and took his sincere gesture as something negative.
Damn this PMS!
But, really though, I gotta tell you, parking is crappy in downtown. Why do they cost so much, and why does it have very little parking spaces? And when they provide you some, they put this sign with a list of restrictions and some twist hoping that you would fail to fully crack the code and break the rule and they can tow your car for you to pay $210.
And why does every freaking car in Chicago drive like a maniac?
And when you signal to change lane they speed up to make sure that you can't get in.
And I despise those crazy drivers who honk the exact moment the light turns green.
That is my pet peeve. I really want to stop right there and then, just for the sake of pissing him back.

I told my boyfriend, seriously, that I should bring the driving manual, (you know, the one issued by the State) with me when I drive, so I can wave it around and yell "Read this!" when someone cut my lane without signalling, or do whatever stupidity that I might come across on the road.
But, he laughed out loud and made me laughed too and now I feel like a loony whenever I bring the topic. He killed my idea.

Then, last weekend I almost got into an accident. So, for all fairness, I think I should wave it to myself.

Back to the fight, well, for those who know me very very well, I am short tempered and very drama-queenish, but I can't stay mad for a too long of a period of time (unless it's really disgustingly bad, then yeah, you don't want to press my button). Besides, my boyfriend's soft spot is happened to be...
me.
So, it was over before we even get back to the suburb.

We're so good at ending a fight, it's almost like we have lots of practice, when we actually don't.

Anyway, presentations were over today, I was just glad and went directly to Trader Joe's. What a recreation.

VP in underwear

What am I doing up this early on the weekend?
I'm stressed out, that why.
And when I am all stressed out, I can't sleep well, and don't really eat.
Yeah, a great way to lose my weight, while I, unlike most female, don't want to be skinny. (I'm weird, yeah, old news)

I have two presentations to the client next week, each is an hour, back to back.
I hate presentations because I hate talking in public, especially when the public is the senior VPs of my future employers. And the thing about talking in public, let alone remembering to picture the audience in underwear, standing up there and facing them with a confident expression (or pretend to have one) is hard by itself.

I asked my boyfriend to be my guinea pig and listen to my presentation and let me know what I'm lacking of. Despite his professed love to me, he said, "Honey, I most likely will fall asleep. Every time I hear a presentation, I fell a sleep."
Hmmmm,... that's true.
He can drop his adrenaline every time someone starts preaching, teaching, presenting, giving speeches or anything that involving long explanation.

And, man,... now all of a sudden I remember that I have other assignments besides this one and might ended up 11 days of 'holding the fort' (long & boring story, you don't wanna know).

I need to reward myself once all commotion is over.

Oh... but, I can't. I haven't done my tax yet.

I need another vacation. One where I won't get dragged around like those cans attached at the back of a car with the sign: Just Married.

Consumerism Day

I almost forgot it's Valentine's Day if not because my boyfriend sent me a text message in the morning saying Happy V Day.
Awww... he's nice that way.
Valentine's Day is a Consumerism Day. Not that I against it, but I just can't appreciate it much for some unknown reasons.
Maybe it's a culture thing, or maybe I'm just a sceptic, or maybe I just don't feel like going to an overcrowded restaurant and the waitress is so busy that he/she can't even serve us properly and after that I have to pay double for the meal.
And also I don't like roses. Especially the red ones.
Too many petals, and they're thorny.
Anyway, my boyfriend gave me some pink tulips though, which is nice and more than enough.It was funny because he literally asked me for hints of what I want for Valentine's day & I told him, some tulips maybe nice, but please don't overspend.
We should not yield to the consumerism day!
We have consumed a lot anyway for no apparent reason all throughout the year, not just Feb 14th, so why should this day any better than the rest, consumerism wise.
Spare the card, I don't need it. Don't mistake me for being cheap, but honestly I never know what to do with card after I read it. Do you keep it? Or throw it away?
Please, someone, enlighten me.
And he stopped by that evening & we had dinner together ( frozen food, I don't cook this week, I'm busy) and with me in my PJ, we watched DVD.
It was nice. It was no difference than any other day we've been having all this time.
So what does that say?
(Can I be corny for a second? No? Are you sure?)
Well, what the heck, it's my blog, if you don't like it, you have to just bear it.
That means, that I think I found my (wink wink wink) couch potato partner for life.
Ain't love grand?

Chika Boom

My 'Great Expectations' DVD just came today.
JOOOOOYYY JOOOOOYYYY!!!
I had some DVD marathon this afternoon since I got the early shift this week and I can go home at 3 PM. Isn't it great walking out from the office where the sun is still shining oh so bright and I got to wear my sunglasses. Sigh, I look good in them. (heh heh, a bit of a narcissistic moment there).

That movie still amazes me. Just like I can never get over Amelie (and for that I have the real size movie poster of it). That old lady Dinsmoor. She is scary beyond belief.
But... funny that I just said that, because,... as I stared at her, she looked like my grandma.
The way that her face is always polished and made up. Hair shiny, full of volume.
Like she's always ready for the red carpet or something.
The way Dinsmoor sounded and talked also reminded me of her,not to mention her grin, the teeth, and bright lipstick. Uncanny.
Uhm,... BTW, yes, my grandma was a fashionista.

The movie is great. I always think so. And after this afternoon, I still do.

Is it possible to love someone after that person broke your heart, left you (several times), lead you on then left again? And everything you do, is the reflection of one goal, which is to win her.

Love does make people do stupid things, but it sure is good to watch them do it when you're laying on the couch eating cake when you know that all of your coworkers are still in the office, typing their code away.

P.S. You won't understand what the title means until you actually see the movie. So that's a homework, guys. Especially to you, Hunny.

Bored to Death

I don't know where else to go around here.
I was extremely excited when I found Trader Joe's in the neighborhood. That I looked at myself thinking how pathetic I was, excited over a grocery store.
When I turned left from my apartment I find a mall, when I turn left, same thing, another mall.
And,...
THAT'S IT!
Haven't found a club around here yet. I don't think I will. We went out to some rather nicer restaurants and the crowds are old people driving Mercedes smelling like my Grandma's favorite perfume.
And that Chicago skyline silhouette from afar just make me even more mad.

Oh anyway, changing the subject, let me tell you a story about a guy I met at work, we passed each other by in the hallway or beverage bar, whatever, and said hi and do the standard "How are you today? - I'm fine thank you how about you - I'm doing okay -Good -Good - See you later - Okay see you around" routine. Now his project is done and he's out, and sent me an email on his last day, and has been emailing me since. Asking about trivial unimportant things like "You don't talk much and seem shy at work are you really shy or do you act in the moment?"
I might be this miss Dorky van Doofus but I think this guy thinks that he has a shot.
I want to scream back at him saying something like " I seemed shy because I DON'T KNOW YOUUUUU!"
"And also my mom told me not to talk to strangers, unless they give you candy and offer you a ride home" Nope, just kidding.
Sigh...
However, usually the mere mention of boyfriend will do the trick, if not, then the term boyfriend will be fiance. And if that doesn't work, then wedding bells will have to do, and if not then I'd just tell him that my dad is the sheriff. He wouldn't know that my dad, even if he is a sheriff, which, he is not, is half a world away.
Oh! Speaking of Sheriff, I saw the sheriff's car every so often in my neighborhood, I begin to think that he lives around here. Not that it has anything to do with anything. But... that song "I shot the sheriff" popped out every time I saw his car and it's kinda annoying because that tune would stick in my head for the whole day.

Babies Attack

Gracious God.
It seems like everyone just had a baby or expecting a baby.
Babies everywhere.
Babies babies babies.
Wow...
Even Angelina Jolie is expecting one.
Babies seems unreal, especially if they are your friends'.
That's right.
Your friends who you used to spend time with during high school. Or college. When you know their previous affairs, stupid exes, silly crushes.
You know them when their hair was all frizzy. Eyebrows unplugged, we share the ladies room changing gym outfits.
Or for the guy friends, you know them from their skinny days, and you know all of their crazy exes, until the day they run ever so excitedly to you about this new chick they fall in love with and you'd think, okay heeeeere we goooo, another girlfriend. I hope this one is saner than the one before. And they finally made the right decisions and picked a very good quality of "fish in the sea."
Wow,...
And now, babies.
Well, parents, or future parents, I only have one advise.
You guys all know my real name, and my name is a pretty one (I always think so.... he he).
So, here is the advise: If you have a girl, think of my name and how pretty it is.
Think really hard.
Then make the right decision.
Wink!

To you who just gave me the great news, you know who you are.
Congratulations from Auntie Blue Cactus.
I'm sooo happy for you.

The World is Never Fair

It's been a very heavy week for me. My boss pulled me aside and talked about the re-alignment that the office is secretly doing. And the bad news was that two of my co-workers (whose level is below me) won't make it.
Now, my boss revealed that another project deal was in the making and most likely, he could save one of them. But he couldn't save both.

I put on my best poker face. Or should I say, I tried my best not to hyperventilate and pass out, because one of them is a friend of mine. I recommended him this job and he's not even there for two months just yet. And he's about to be let go within a month.
So, I breathed in and out like a fish out in the air and did my best to listen to my boss laying out the delicate situation that we're in at the moment.
I only caught a bit more than half of the whole situation. too bad I couldn't say "Encore, please?"

Then came his question: "Who should I save?"
I looked at my boss like an idiot. Is he asking me?
Quick! Quick!
Think of something!
I've got to act like I'm being objective but 'leaning' enough to my friend so my boss would think that he should choose him.
Uhm,...
Damn it! Say something!
Then, the other co-worker's face came flashing in my mind and I remembered that she just bought herself a house and borrowed money from the bank.
Arrghhh...

But still, if I had to choose, I'd choose my friend. He's a dear dear friend, the kind of friend who's been saving my ass over the years. He (along with my roommate) were the first persons that I saw in the airport when I first got here. He's been lifting my stuff, boxes, furniture, and God-knows-what-else everytime I decided to move from apartment to apartment. He'd stay up late to help me do those sucky programming homeworks. And if I list of of the other favor he's done for me, then this blog can be a very long one.

Yeah,.. I owe him that much, and even more.

So I took a deep breath and started to voice my opinion on both of them and who I think should be saved.
I feel crappy, and I feel bad, but the world is never fair and if I can save only one, then my friend's hand is the one I'd grab.

Arghhhh...
So many things I want so say in this blog,... yet! I'm always sleepy these days. After I came back here, I just don't understand why I would feel tired at 9-10 pm and wake up at 7 in the morning.
That's about 10-9 hours!
You know what they say: the older you get, the more sleep you need. But I thought that saying is only for the elderly.
That's it!
I know.
I'm going down the hill.
I'm old. I should start referring guys as 'young men' and ask them to help me go across the street.
Sigh...
And I found a few fine lines right below my eyes. On the outer rings of my eyes.
I got so worried that I got all my moisturizers out and applied them really generously.
I have back pain too.
I'm forgetful too.
Wait,... nah.. I've always been forgetful.
Just like my boyfriend. We're a great match, nobody remembers things or appointments or where we put our stuff.
Should be interesting to see what'll happen if one day we get married and live in the same house.
Anyway, I'm out. This is midnight and I can't even remember my name anymore.

Okay, since I have sorted out my sleeping schedule, and working schedule and eating schedule, it's time to look back and say "What the hell happened on that trip?!!".

The last memory of the whole thing was my boyfriend loading my luggage into his car and I just sat in the front seat, all tired, with sore throat, no make-up, messy hair, smelling like stinky gym shoes.

So,... as far as memory goes, here's Jakarta in a nutshell:
It's humid. My hair was big and frizzy there.
I kept my promise not to read the newspaper and I literally pointed that out to my dad,... but somehow, he always tried to fill me in on the day-by-day chaos that's going on there. That tofu is full of formalin, and so is anchovies. damn it! I rather not know that because anchovies is one of the delicious delicacy food in my life.
Not to mention all the sad economical & political situation.

The tv shows there sucks!
SUCKS big time!
I call all them as the country's intelligence degrading process. For all we know, the next generation of women there will long to find handsome gorgeous husbands who're crazy about them, have tons of money and they will live happily ever after, doing nothing but raising child after child, spending time going to hair saloon and malls and buy expensive useless things and watch Korean/Taiwan dramas every evening.
Ugh. Sigh... please pardon my cynicism. Can't help it.

I went to MANGO sale and found nothing there. I can't see what the fuss is all about. People were so ready to line up and spent their money for things that in my opinion were so not worth the price. There's, however, a gorgeous green dress that I tried but it is so low cut at the front that my bra is even higher than the dress itself.
I wasted my precious time in MANGO. I'm not going there again.

Okay, now, I can really go on and on AND ON, about the baaaaad things going on there, but I'm going to move on to the good stuff.
Indonesian food is da bomb! Ups... shouldn't say 'bomb' in a sentence together with the word 'Indonesia'. Delicate topic. But, I had maybe the best meals in such a long time. Nothing compared to them, especially not burgers. Huh! And I can't belieeeeve I bought pretty sandals in Bali for only 4 bucks. They might as well give them to me for free.
The weather is nice, polluted, but nice. Humid, but still nice.
And Bali is still gorgeous as ever & I went back here telling my boyfriend that we should go there the next time we go back home.
I have become a sentimental fool there, I make sure I played with my nephews, even though they are really testing my patience at times, so they'll have memory of me. And I' wont' be this aunt who's never been around.
I took lots of pictures, I saw my parents were growing old and the fact created pain in my chest. Though they are well, I think I need to rearrange my future plans or one day, I might regret that I don't.
And related to this, I promised myself to go home more often, every year if I have to. Be it I hate flying, be it I don't like Jakarta, but seeing the joy of my nephews running towards me at the airport upon my arrival and getting the signature warm bear hug from my dad are priceless.

I'm back

I'm still alive. Thank God. What a sucky flight I had. Simply because of the total time I spent flying here. It's disgusting I won't even mention it.
And, no one told me that the immigration will take your picture once you get to the US. Great. I bet my picture looks even scarier than Nick Nolte's mug shot (click here).
Anyway, feel so happy to see my boyfriend. He told me that ever since I left, the Bulls never won a single game. They had 8 straight losing game. And the night before I landed in the morning, the Bulls had their first win in a long time.
Awww... that makes me feel special. :D
Plus! They won again last night. I wouldn't know because I fell asleep. It's just my boyfriend hanging around & told me they won when I woke up later last night.
Another thing that's missing while I was away is the sunshine. They had overcast for over 2 weeks. And guess what, the sun shone yesterday evening and today morning, it's sunny.
Yeah, baby,... I am Matahari.
Hehehe...
I bought so many stuff for my boyfriend, it's like Christmas all over again for him yesterday.
Anyway, it's slavery time again. I will start working tomorrow. I hope I won't fall asleep with my head on the keyboard in the middle of the day. That would be kinda embarrassing.

One sad thing about Jakarta is saying goodbye my family, I couldn't care less about Jakarta, but I do care about my family. I sometimes question myself why I even be here and see them only for 2 1/2 weeks in 3 years if they are the most important people in my life.
I sometimes don't know what to decide.
I told my boyfriend yesterday that I had second thought on staying here in the US after seeing them getting older and older despite my company is willing to sponsor me greencard, unless I can bring them all here, which is kind of too wishful to come true.
Sigh... what a daughter/sister/aunt gotta do?
I wish I know.

What a roller coaster past few days I had!
Im right now at Narita, Tokyo airport waiting to go home to my family.
I am convinced that being a stewardess is NOT my cuppa tea. yesterdays flight was the longest 13 hours of my ffffreaking life.
And in about an hour and a half, Ill go through another 7 (or 8?). I dont even dare checking my itinerary.
I had to leave my boyfriend on my birthday. And seeing him walking away at the airport was pretty hard. Yes, yes, its only for 2 and a half weeks, but he will not spend christmas and new years eve with me. Though hes pretty cool about it.
Now, for those who didnt wish me happy birthday, shame on you! Didnt you go to friendster & see the wrapped gift icon bliping in front of you by my picture???
Hehehe... just kidding. :P
But, yes, Im old, as old as,... uhm,... 21.
Yes, Im 21 again this year, next year I want to go with 59, coz like my coworker said, if you admit that you are 59, then in a year, youll retire and receive pention money every month.
Hm,....
Interesting.
Oh well... Im bored. Time crawls in an unbelievably slow speed when you are waiting for something.
And if youre wondering why i dont have any single quote marks in this posting, thats because I dont know how to make one. This computer im using in this public waiting room is set to japanese characters. I think Im satisfied enough to even be able to write this blog.
So, for those who celebrate, merry X-mas, happy hanukah, or Kwanza. And if you dont fall into any of those category, well,... congrats on having some days off.

I'm Coming, With 2 Big Luggages Full of Crap

Two more working days for me. Then I'm off to home.
As predicted, I'm going somewhere else after I land my butt home. We're going to Bali, which is not too bad, considering it's only a little bit more than an hour (compared to Hong Kong, around 4 hours).
I'm 95% done packing. I shocked everybody a few days ago when I told them I haven't packed, not a single thing. Then their wave of panic was contiguous enough to make me start packing (and done in a few hours,... thank you very much).
And I also went to the bank to get some crisp, clean, unfolded hundred dollars bill. To get the best rate, the year should be 2003 and up and the serial number should NOT begins with C or DB or DH.
Can you imagine how stupid those rules are?
Unbelievable.
The teller looked at me like I was mental. That was pretty embarrassing.

I only packed less than 10 pieces of clothing, I figured that since we have maids back home, I can just recycle them and wear them over and over again.
But then I called my mom & she start advising me about all the occasions I'll attend and what kind of clothing is appropriate, and now I have about 30 pieces of clothing, for the 13 days I'll be home.
Sigh...
And the shoes,... I'm not even going there.

Next step is to figure out on how I will sleep on the plane.
Thinking about buying some sleeping pills but, not really fond of the idea.
Plan B is to ask the lady in uniform to bring me something strong like vodka or something like that. That might work.

Lastly, prepare myself to face it.

And what is it? (This is so like that Ebay commercial).

It is my lovable, crappy Indonesia.

Lefties Rule!

I don't think I ever reveal that I am a lefty. I eat, cook, write, hit, serve volleyball, brush teeth with my left hand. I only use my right hand to shake hands, use scissor (don't know why I am dexter for that one), dribble a ball and trim my left hand fingernails.
I hate it how the culture in my country always see the right hand to be the superior hand. The left should only be used for cleaning yourself up after you answer 'nature calls'.
I hate it when people asked me, "So, if you are a lefty, then with which hand do you clean after yourself in the restroom."
To be honest, I don't know, because I don't keep track. I guess it depends on which side the toilet tissue is placed.
Another thing that annoyed me so is the manner issue. "Don't use your bad hand when you hand people something. Hand it with your good hand".
What the hell is wrong with all the left hands in this world? Or at least in my home country.
My left hand is a good as the right one.
I really do appreciate my parents who never seem to care which hand I use.
My kindergarten teacher called my mom up for a meeting at school when I was 5 year old. She told my mom that she had been encouraging me to use my right hand. But I kept on using my left one. And every time I, subconsciously, moved the pencil to my left hand, she placed it back to my right one. She also showed my mom my workbook. None of them were finished. My progress was very slow.
My mom only said one sentence to her: "So? Let her use her left hand".
And ever since, I caught up and did just fine.
Another story, my elementary stupid headmistress nun caught me when I held the spoon with my left hand during class break. She, angelically, sat with me and tutored me to use my right hand, I had to finish my stupid lunch struggling with my right hand to get the last pieces of my meal.
Now, I am an adult and no one tells me what to do anymore. I'd like to meet my ex-headmistress and slap her with my left hand. That would be a great pay-off for all the snickers behind me when she 'tutored' me "How to Use Your Right Hand 101".
Too bad I'm not residing in Indonesia anymore, I'd start a Lefty Equality Campaign and gather all the lefties in the country, just to piss the "righteous" righties.

And when I have a kid and she/he is weird in a way, I'd teach him/her just to kick everybody's asses when they try to mold/tell/advise him/her any other way. Be proud of what your quirks are. Never yield to be common and be the same as the rest of the world. Yes, that's what I'm going to tell the kid.

Hi everyone, my name is ***, I'm a road rager.

I just come to realize lately this very bad pattern when I'm driving.

First of all, let me tell you my philosophy when I drive. I'm generous at giving people way. I let people change lane in front of me. As long as they give signal beforehand. That's because I'm jumpy and don't appreciate it when I got scared.

I'm also big at 'the right of way'. I honor those who came to the intersection first, and I will wait and let them pass first. I also yield when I'm going to a bigger street. I don't like it when some bozo just expects me to hit the brake just because they decided to heck with it and cut me.

Lastly, I'm a slow driver. Slow means that I obey the max speed limit. At most I would go 5 miles more than what the sign said. Why? Because I was stopped by a police officer once because I went 52 miles/ hr when I should go 40 miles/hr (thank goodness I could wiggle my way out of it. I know... I'm charming when I try to). Also, I live on the biggest street in the town and there, policemen are constantly hiding behind every single bushes they can find and jump to every car that passes by with speed more than the limit. If I get a dime for every police car I see on my way back and forth to the office, I'd be rich.

So, given my mental situation. It is bad to cut me. I will honk you like crazy and chase you down and give you angry expressions. I consider it very impolite. No manner at all.
So, never cut me.

Once, I was driving on the slowest lane and this car behind me just pass me by and cut me right in front of my nose. I think I know why he did it and that's because I wasn't fast enough. But heck, I was going 40 when the sign said 'speed limit 40'.
If you want to go faster, then be my guess and pass me by. I won't get mad.
But don't pass me by and cut my lane only a few feet way from my car.
That day, I got so mad that I chased him down and not realizing that I already passed my apartment.

Yeah. I'm crazy like that.
It's not recommended though. I turned my boyfriend white the other day when someone cut my lane.

I'm a road-rager.
My temper has always been sort of my weakness. The more I think about it, the more I started to remember all the similar kind of outbursts: like that guy I chased (together with the equally crazy roommate) because he groped my butt, or the bus I chased back home because it hit my dad's car & it attempted to run away (yes, I ran and chased it and hopped into the bus and yell at the driver to stop).
I turned my dad white that day.
Later that night, my dad knocked at my room, came in and hug me and said: "I really really appreciated what you did, Honey, but next time, just let it go, okay?"

So, hi everyone, my name is Bluecactus, and a I'm a road-rager trying to recover.

Snow Dandruff

No 'warm' weather. Cancel 'warm' weather.
We have a snow storm at this very moment and I had the most intense drive back to home today. Only 2.5 miles away from the office, & I got home in about 30-40 minutes of driving.
It's crazy. I wonder how long it takes for my co-worker to drive back to her home on the far south side of Chicago suburb.
And this storm makes me look like I have a serious dandruff problem on my shoulder.
Sigh...
A tropical creature in this weather has the right to be grumpy.

Time for Bikini?

After the freaking cold weather these past days, I heard that we're going to have some warm days. Warm days mean: days in lower forties Fahrenheit.
I can't believe the weatherman announced it as warm.
Should I be happy with 40F and run around in a bikini outside?

I heard Madonna new hit single. I don't like it. I'm old, I can't keep up with the new billboard top 40 or MTV hits. My boyfriend said my taste in music is no longer 'old school'. It has gone totally to 'oldies'.
I think he's right. I think I'd fit in perfectly well in the 50-ies with Ella Fitzgerald and such. But I don't think I can pull the role being a woman in the 50-ies. Plus, wearing a dress daily (sometimes in polka-dot motive variations) with full make-up and heels would freak the crap out of me.

I think I better go to bed. I don't know why I'm up at this hour of the day. This is a school day for crying out loud.
OK, I'm out.

Map on Skimpy Post-It: Bad Idea

Riding in the car yesterday with my boyfriend, I just realized how patient he is as a person.

And I'm trying really hard right now to write this blog without making it corny.
I don't like corny stuff/remarks. I don't like cheesy stuff. Period. That's why in our relationship, I always say "I love you" straight up.
There is no "You are my sunshine, you make me feel like I'm in heaven. With you I learn what love is"
Yeeeeccckkkss!
No offense to the poetic kind out there. But that's just not us.

Anyway, so, yesterday, we went to a Christmas party. And I had the direction ready from yahoo maps. However, long story short, the direction I gave him was like going from San Diego to LA through freaking Las Vegas.
To add on top it, it was snowing, his car almost slipped a few times, I turned white, and the stupid road was full of snow and 5 cars ahead of us was a U-Haul moving truck, crawling at, 18 miles per hour.

But my boyfriend wasn't mad at me for the crappy road I mislead him to.

Oh! And to add on top of the top of it, he was actually not feeling well.

I was so ready to take it from him, because, I thought that, if it were him who gave me the wrong direction. He wouldn't hear the end of it. Yeah! I'm mean like that.

But he was not mad.

Makes me think to gain more patience towards him, coz, I'm a lil bitch who, most of the time, doesn't tolerate.
Yes, that's me.

So, moral of the story.
Get driving direction from yahoo instead of just zooming your map out & draw it on a skimpy post-it.
Get a patient boyfriend, like mine.
He's da bomb.
Two thumbs way up!
I'm cooking the next time he comes by.

My ex-neighbor, Ms. Winfrey

Most people, I think, are really into Oprah and her majesty kingdom.
And maybe I am thought as a fan too, especially since I lived my first years in Oprahdom a.k.a Chicago, and her pointy apartment tower is within walking distance from my apartment.
And I was , actually, in awe of her power and her good deeds and her talk show which doesn't include stupid sessions like 'Who fathered my child: the Ultimate Paternity test' or 'I slept with your sister and I'm going to elope with her'. You know, Jerry Springer-ish kind.
And I like how she does her make-up. I mean her make-up artist does her make-up.
If you've seen her without make-up, you'll know what a major transformation it's been.
Bravo to the make-up artist.
But, nope.
Not a fan.
Do I hate her?
Nooo,... I hate Bush more. I don't cringe when I see her on TV, like I him.
I have this tendency to flip the channel when the person doing the monologue or speech stutters or do a lot of pauses or stare in blank when asked questions.
That's why I don't watch Bush. Because he is getting on my nerves.
But, back to Oprah.
I think, she's just not my cup of tea. I don't understand why she gave all that cars to the people coming to her show, or has sessions like 'Oprah's favorite things' where she would give out expensive stuff to her live audience.
Maybe that's because I'm jealous?
Hehe... that could be it. But I think, I was ticked because with her power, those stuff, or cars can go to a more deserving people, an orphanage or I don't know, anti-cruelty society (my favorite organization).
I've read that her crew picked out the audience carefully for the car give-away, but I also heard that many of them just plain lucky. Have you calculated the tax for the car per person? I read it in an article my boyfriend sent me, it cost each person $7000.
Again, American dollars, not Yen.
I also know that she would call to Newman Marcus before shopping so that the store can be closed and she can shop freely.
Yes, it must be hard being a celebrity.
Like I said, I don't hate her, it's just the petition going on for her to be nominated for Nobel prize is... just absurd.
And her blacklist to some people is just over the top. I can't imagine being angry to Dave Letterman for 16 years. Yes, he is mean at times. But that's his bread and butter. I think Dave mentioned Clinton in much more awful jokes, but he came to his show anyway.
Oprah should chill.
Be more like Ali G.
As he said at the end of his wacky interviews:
Booyakasha!

What? What happened?

HHWWHHHAATTT???!!!
Jessica Simpson is seperated from her husband, Nick Lachey???
What in the heck this world has turned into?
I don't know if I can believe in love anymore.
Hehehe...
Just kidding.

Once my boyfriend finds this out, he'll gloat on how accurate his prediction was: "I'll give them maximum 5 years."
I think I owe him something out of this bet.
Damn it Jessica! Can't you wait for another two years??!

Guess not, huh?

Oh well. Breakups are hard, but with what they have (fame, money, looks, hm,... brain? Nope,.. not brain), they'll rebound quickly.
No worries, Jessica's perfectly dyed blonde hair will still be perfect and Nick's ,.... hm,.. famous pout will still be pouty.
Hollywood goes on.

Hauling my Sanity on Vacation

Oh, Lordy, my mom mentioned today that she wants to take a trip with the whole family (incl. me) when I visit later next month.
One way to home from Chicago cost me about 20 hours of my life. Just sitting there till my a** is sweaty and moldy.
I hate flying.
I hate the food, the seat, the buzzing sound, the tiny restroom, the snoring neighbor, the fact that I have to ding the lady in uniform, just to get a cup of water.
It's always too cold for me, I can't sleep, I can't do anything, but stare at the boring movies... or not.
Can you imagine if I ever took that offer to be a Singapore Airlines Girl?
I don't know what I was thinking. I was smart not to be one.
fiiuuffhh.. that was a close one.

I'm dreading this vacation. Not the destination, just the journey.
So, now that my mom is throwing some ideas to go somewhere while I was there.
I think I fainted for a split second while on the phone with her.
I also think I need to talk to my mom the concept of time: I'll be there for 2 freaking weeks, minus jet lag, 2 days, minus the days I'll spend shopping, that's 5 days, minus the time I'll spend to meet my friends, that's 2 days (I might have to arrange 5 lunch dates in a day, though). I want to spend some time going to the some the classic-must-see places, such as Bandung, and sort. It'll be nice to have around 3-4 days just doing nothing, because that's the whole point of vacation, isn't it?
Then, voila! I have to go back home.
Now, where is the time for me to pack & go to Hong Kong for 4 days?
Oh Lord...

It's turkey massacre holiday again.
I can't turned around and not see a turkey walking around on TV. The hype is almost like the time when Tom Cruise hooked up with that Dawson's Creek chick. All over the media.
Now, isn't that pretty uncomfortable for us to see turkeys walking around, as cartoon, or posing in pictures, in some ads, with wide grin, while, within 48 hours it's going to be our meal?
No?
You don't feel that awkwardness?
Is it just me?
Coz, every time I see a turkey parading back and forth on TV for some commercial, all I think was, "Damn it. Dude, let's not get acquainted. I'm your predator."

I think I was an animal in the previous life before I reincarnated as me, or an animal fairy of some sort. Plus I always think that I should be a vegetarian.

I think I'm in the wrong country. I should be in Tibet eating some freakish looking dishes without meat in it. Just turnip and radish.

Uhm,...

But, hey, you know what, the thought of turkey all of a sudden doesn't sound so bad anymore.

Discrimination is okay?

I came across a job ad a few days ago through my high school mailing list.
This is another thing that I think I have forgotten. How normal it is to put age, gender and marital status as limitation.
Urgently needed:
Yada yada yada...
Technical Support Staff and Supervisor with the following specification:

• Yada yada.. Bachelor of Science in Computer Science
• One year experience minimum in yada yada yada...
• yada yada...
• Hardworker, yada yada...
• Male, older than 25 years old, single (not married yet).
  

I mean,... no offense to the fellow high school friend who posted the ad. I'd imagine that this ad was just copied and pasted from his boss' instruction.
But,... whooaaa... if I were to find a job in Jakarta, and I have the qualification for all the bullet points, but not the last one, then I'm not eligible. Because, God forbid, I will have to get my sex changed to a man.
Isn't that what we call here in the US as the big D?

I remember one time, right after I finished my final project and getting ready to graduate, I actually did apply for a job which requested me to send them a passport-size picture of myself.
I think this kind of things are okay back home, huh?

Now that I look back, it really bothers me.
More over about that ad, which is looking only for single candidates.
Well, tough luck for dudes with rings, then.

I wish there is something to be done about this kind of things. But, I think there isn't.
Like another million things I'd love to see changed back home. I think I'll just have to drop the subject and move on with my life rather than frustrate myself.
I have a job now, and I love it. And I'm not planning to go back home. Well, unless something changes my destiny, then I might.
And if I ever go back & try to find a job. I will pass this kind of ads. Even if I qualified down to the last point.

I might, though, end up writing back to them just to ask: "Dear Sir / Madame, How come that this kind of discriminatory act can pass your judgment and went out to public? Tell me, why does the candidate have to be male, and over 25 year old, and single? Please send me back an answer because I'm itching with desire to send you back an argument for your argument. Sincerely unimpressed, Blue Cactus
P.S. FYI, I'm not interested in the job, with company policy like that, I'll pass. However, please do reply back to me regarding the above question."

And of course, I'll put my real name there.

Chances are, I won't get anything back from them.
But I hope, they'll be as bothered by my email as I am by the ad right now.

I'm going home!

I'm going home!
It been too many blue moons passed by since I set my foot on the dirty, old Jakarta. And I've been eating too many cheese burgers that I can't stand it anymore. And I've been speaking too much English that I don't know squat about Indonesian slang.
Plus the layering of my hair is not nicely structured, I've been missing Hanky Tandayu all this time.
I've been missing my dogs that I start looking at all types of dog food & tried to decide what kind I should buy and bring home for them.

I wonder if I'd cringe & hang on tight to my seat as I ride along the traffic of Jakarta.
Which, by the way, reminds me of that song "New York, New York" that said if you can make it there you'll make it anywhere. That's bull crap, I challenge New Yorkers to drive in Jakarta. They'll have a heart attack.
I miss 3 years of my nephews lives. For all I know they might have their driver licence by now and drive around in their dads' cars, picking up chicks.
Oh, Gosh, I think just I had my first heart attack.

I heard about all the new shopping malls and wonder if I can ever conquer the quest to visit every single one of them in 24 hours.
I also wonder if I can dig Indonesian music. And watch the local soap opera programs for a full hour without giggling, not even once. And restrain the urge to mock the story line, or the characters, or the dialog, or just simply the stupid title.
I know for sure though, that I won't be reading the newspapers. Because I know I still think that the goverment sucks and they can just kiss my a**. And I don't want to upset myself and feel humiliated by all the stupid decisions my country leaders have been making to my beloved land.
Anyway,...
Right now, it's 20 F out there, or about -5 C, but I can feel the hot, sticky, air of Jakarta as I gave my travel agent my credit card number.
It costs me twelve-freaking-hundred dollars.
Yes, American dollars.
Not Yen.
Still, my heart is humming: Joy... joy... joy...

Stupid Lady Bug

Stupid lady bug crawling up my calf. I almost killed her had I not known that it's not a baby cockroach.
I saw her since morning but I didn't have the heart to kill her.
So, now we're sharing the bathroom (that's where she was at when she was crawling up my calf).
So as the punishment, she was my guinea pig for my super macro zoom on my camera.
True, I don't care about insects. I'm a bit phobic actually, but I guess, I can co-exist with this one leg-crawler. It's cold outside. I have considered trapping her in a jar or something & put her outside, but I wonder if I'd just be killing her instead.
Anyway, so... sigh... yes, she can stick around. I just don't know if I should provide her some kind of meal for her.
What does she eat anyway?
Is she a vegetarian?
By the way, she just fled by my head.
I hate flying insects.
We need to talk. Me and her.
And why is she following me to the other side of the room anyway?
She is stupid indeed.

Sigh...

But I don't want to kill her.
Now she's crawling on my desk.
Man...
Why did she have to choose my window.
Stupid bug.

Should I name her too?

Scarlett O'hara

I have decided a name for my car. It's Scarlett O'hara. Yes, my car is Irish.