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

Fasting. Fasting. Fasting. Dates.

Before I knew it, I was fasting.

Damnit, no more sleeping naked for a whole month.

Yes, the Ramadan has once again embrace the world, and here I am stuck with hormones whenever I see my husband's nipples be bared against the cold reality of my sight. Just when we declared our undying passion with one another and vowed to have daily sexual intercourse, fasting days are pimpin' their weaves at us. Ah yes, being the newlyweds that we are, emotions are going rampant on our crotches.

However, I can always resort into something that has been a passion of mine for ages: COOKING.

Dates (the fruits), are quite the annual treats when it comes to Ramadan in Indonesia. It's like chocolates on Valentines' Day in Japan, roast turkeys on Thanksgiving, and flashing boobs on Mardi Gras for beads. Really, the overexposure is enormous and you can't help yourself from complying along with the rave. During the whole month, is all about date cheesecakes, date wafers, date green teas (I really suggest you to avoid this at any cost), date pies, date brownies, and it goes one and on and on. The good thing about this particular type of fruit is that because of its near-extreme sweetness, usually result the absence of cane sugar in the final food product. Meaning that we could simply rely on fructose alone instead of glucose.

I like to eat and make balanced food, and by balanced, I mean food which taste got that perfect mesh between the spices/ingredients being incorporated into it. If it's a sweet base, then I'd prefer something either semi-contradictory as in salty or something neutral such as creamy. If it's a savory thing, then I mix and matches of all kinds of herbs, and never a focused flavor. Now, in the matter of dates, I add the existence of cheese (be it cheddar or cream or both, heehee) right in between a sliced-open piece of Medjool date. Ah, 'tis perfect.

I do wish I have pictures to present, but... well, excuses, excuses. 

-Tev-

The Jakartan Monologue

It's smoggy, crowded, dyslectic  between annoyingly humid and steaming hot, populated by rude people from the village areas who don't give a rat's ass about hygiene nor manners, frequently smells like a messed up fusion between carbon monoxide and septic tanks, crowded with unlicensed drivers driving all kinds of public transportation, controlled by local authorities who treats bribery like gods, and a whole lot of other wrong things you could imagine in running a city in a Third-World country. 

The funny part however is that those things mentioned above are frequently paired with the paradoxical counterpart that miraculously go hand-in-hand in the name of coexistence. A parasitic coexistence, that is. To call it ironic would be too bland, and to label it devastating would be a slight-hyperbole. We, the Jakarta people, tend to name our city's issues as something that goes along with the unnamed sequence from bitching to eventually dismissing it into a "whatever"-infused state. Just imagine New York's poorer, adopted, lazy, procrastinating, mentally-unstable, masochistic sister who constantly gets pregnant with bastard embryos while finding out that she's the only one left out from a will inheritance. That's Jakarta in a nutshell for you heathens. Teeheehee.

Who needs this city, really? Our beaches are dark green with a black tint up, unlike Bali. The weather offers nothing but overacting conditions such as when the sun scorches your skin during the dry season, while the monsoon hands giveaways in the form of floods. The traffic made you wish you were James Riady with his endless hordes of helicopters. The local state officers makes you wanna reach an AK-47 and turn them into target practices with their so-called version of public assistance. The criminal activities are so intense that it's actually starting to get a bit funny whenever you see a pickpocket being bludgeoned to a pulp by the angry mass on some local TV program.

At the end, a rant is just a rant.

Alas, I hate my city the moment I realize that I can't live without it. They say that hate and love are like two opposing sides of the same coin. They were right. 

And I share this sentiment with the rest of my fellow Jakartans.

-Tevia-