Revamped and Butchered

Soooooooo....

After nearing a year of slacking off the blog for various reasons, I decided to jump back in and pour my usual randomities again. Oh, oh, oh, (insert giggles) I Tweet now, you see? There, now you can all stalk me and ask for free muffins any time! For some reason, I feel rather weird on having to write a new blog entry while my husband is trying out his new set of BOSE speakers, blasting Culture Club's Greatest Hits in the middle of the night. I think I'm quite nearing the eagerness to yet again write about my dyslexically beloved Jakarta before images of men with curly hair and heavy dose of make up suddenly and (mind you) effectively bombarded my thoughts. Well, so much for focus. That last hour of my night class doesn't help me getting all my Gods of Literature get together either. If anything, I think they're somewhere playing some lame Javanese poker and picking their nose all throughout.

This is where things get rather whorish (as opposed to?)... For a brief, unimportant information, hubby and I just got back from a whole month trip to the Netherlands this June-July. I gotta say, it was one of the most pleasant experience I've ever encountered all my life. The addition of having people expecting me to get pregnant during our visit there is not one of those pleasantries, but let's not go into that.

LET'S TALK ABOUT BOOZE!!!

Right, so I'm experiencing one of those Muslims-Gone-Wild area of my life where the taste of alcohols, pork and other black, forbidden matters gradually becoming dissolved between the linings of my principals. Yes, I have practice those which belong to an infidel's daily features, and surprisingly, am able to not get attached long to such lifestyle. I mean, what is it about pork, anyway? I have Muslims friends saying that it's "the meat of Heaven", or "melts in your mouth", or "The DIVINE White Meat" or whatever acclamation they could stupendously come up with.

Oh please.

They're not all that.

If anything, I HATE it. I think (and the hubby agrees) that it's one of the worse-tasting meat ever. What's so good about having left-over fat trails on the ceiling of your mouth, anyway? LAMB-meat FTW!

So okay, scratch that for being an extraordinary experience, we can move to les boozes. See, my father in law... made us think that this drink called Rosé or Rozé-wine was a substitute for water most of the time. I tell you, it's not exactly a disticntive type of drink, but I understand why it can be as addictive as, oh, I dunno, beer. Light texture, but earthy tone. Very well mix. Even the cheap ones are acceptable. Tee hee.

Oh, and the air, man. THE AIR. It's actually made from H2O.

You have to understand, this is an awe coming from a Jakartan whose lungs are daily showered with carbon-monoxide and all sorts of dust. THIS IS A BIG DEAL!

(sighs) And here we are again. I have a night class full of red eyes, and for some reason, I've been making drool-islands a lot lately. It's not pretty. I wish my jaws weren't so loose, but that might be a compensation for being reputable at blowjobs. Ahahahahahaha.

Alright now, I'm hitting the sack. If hubby wants teh secks, I'll prolly have no choice.

Toodles,
Miss Pardon

When You Can Drive in Jakarta...

...then you can drive basically everywhere in the world, excluding Antartica (and other icy places) since we don't know how to work up a snow mobile, or put chains on our tires. Maybe I'm just blowing things out of proportion here, but really, you could only get the logic of these rambles once you get the slice of life in that of becoming a Jakartan yourself. Sure we are no where close to the murderous despair of Palestinians, nor the dying frustration of those who resides with plagues and terrorism, but I'd like to address Jakarta's idea of an energy blackhole in the form of its TRAFFIC as somewhat an equivalent of having an autistic hyper active child poking the back of your neck 24/7.

I'm not making this up, really. A German associate of my father once unapologetically declared that he would rather die instantly than having to drive a car in Jakarta. It's a wise choice, I might say, taking note that he's a foreigner and all. It's unfortunately true that you may feel this devitalizing force creeping inside your veins, killing you slowly, starting from the rapid loss of patience, racing heartbeats due to I-have-nine-lives jay walkers disrupting your route, this boiling sensation you have lingering inside your head, until you finally realize that you're actually being slowly murdered in the Jakartan style, before you even reach 25.

Me? I'm a corpse, really. That's why I let hubby dearest do the driving, and mind you, his skills is fully furnished up to the point where he can text-message in the middle of driving. Unsafe, I know, but I was just giving away examples how a geographically-challenged person like me can actually find a silver lining behind the stormy current that is the Jakarta traffic.

'Till then! Drive safe, guys.

-Tev-

Funny Martabak Sign

Happy New Year!

After slacking off like a sloth for a good whole month, I thought I'd start off 2009 with a bit of positivity! I mean, bitchfest is always more entertaining, but that would be like a pothead trying to pick which weed to smoke first before getting an absolute stoned'eged. Too many options for a similar result.

Now then, as I was strolling along the west district of Jakarta, I found an interesting martabak vendor sign:
The FIRST thing that caught my eyes about this banner is of course the manga-esque caricature of those three guys working up some sweet martabak patties. They're adorable and cute even by omitting the contrast of Jakarta's harsh nocturnal landscape, let alone being actually plastered against it. I couldn't help myself from not buying some of those lovely, soft, juicy, sweet, crunchy sweet martabak, of course, and I'm pleased to say that they're as pleasant as their representative banner.