The video, dubbed Peterporn (a play on the words ‘porn’ and ‘Peterpan’ – the name of the band that the male ‘lead star’ of the video is a member of) seem to be the only thing on the Indonesian people’s minds since the video was leaked by an irresponsible third party on the internet a few days ago.

People from all walks of life are talking about it. Those who have the videos in their computers / notebooks / Blackberries / PDAs / Cellphones / iPods are eager to show and share them with their friends and colleagues. Those who don’t have friends who will share these videos with them are ever so dilligently searching any way they can on the internet for these cinematic gems. Many people after watching the videos judge these celebrities out loud as immoral, debauched and sinful yet I’m sure they keep on watching the vids over and over again albeit privately, while probably masturbating themselves silly.

Some even assisted the famous Japanese porn star Miyabi in her search for the videos because apparently she was curious about this scandal having read about it in International medias that she tried to find the videos online with no luck until she got help from her Indonesian fans. Her curiosity has now been satiated and she is reportedly interested to star in a sex film with the Peterporn star and starlets.

The thing is, Peterporn (Peterpan lead singer Ariel) and his two Wendies (Model and presenters Luna Maya and Cut Tari) aren’t porn stars. They are just normal people who happen to hold celebrity statuses in Indonesia and who just happens to also have a little bit of kinkiness in them – just a bit, mind you, not the scale of Marquis de Sade or anything remotely close – and like to film themselves having sex. It shouldn’t be a problem, should it?

Apparently in Indonesia, as we are currently learning, when a video of celebs having sex leaks on the internet, it’s a HUGE problem. These Peterporn videos have successfully made the internet (yet again) the black sheep because now Internet is a risk to nation, according to the “very capable and wise” Minister of Communication and Information (who undoubtedly had his share of miscommunication and misinformation from the looks of things), Tifatul Sembiring.

The videos are also christened as nothing short of moral terrorism. Now coming from real terrorists themselves (FPI) who think they are God’s gift to mankind and answer to everything, this is surely something, don’t you think? (Note the sarcasm)

So far these sex videos are moral terrorism, national embarrassment and they are somehow a risk to the nation. “Risk” just like communist infiltration, Malaysians “stealing” our food and culture, America for being behind whatever goes wrong in Indonesia – tsunami/natural disasters included, and the classic Missionaries bribing people with a pack of instant noodles to give up their faith. (note the even heavier sarcasm and imagine me rolling my eyes nine ways ’till Sunday. Just a thought, if people are willing to give up their faith for a pack of noodles, it just means that they didn’t have that much faith to begin with, did they?)

To see the Peterporn trio become public enemy #1 du jour, even more than the corrupt government and its even more corrupt officials who often do the same – if not worse things with all sorts of people – makes me want to barf. Isn’t it more logical and morally justified to make the responsible party for the Lapindo mud flow incident enemy of the state? Or maybe that guy who married the 12 year old girl, for example, instead of these silly, brainless and unimportant celebrities?

Personally I think it’s none of our goddamn business who these people do it with, whether they video it or not, or in whatever style. We certainly don’t want people messing with our sex lives, why should we make such a fuss about other people’s? This just makes us the stupidest and pettiest hypocrites in my book.

But then again, Indonesia is a funny nation consisting of people who are easily provoked, most of whom are uneducated, many of whom are steered and bullied by the hardliners aka the devil’s spawns aka FPI, and whose opinions are easily shaped by whomever it is to first loud enough state an opinion using whatever religious undertone they can to manipulate whichever case they are speaking of to their advantage.

I see many incidents in Indonesia just like this one that is rigged by using religious verses which would make most people, even the most intelligent ones, throw away their sense of logic down the drain willingly and faithfully. This is very dangerous because things like this will set further precedent for so many things to come. And if this continues, what is the difference between Indonesia today and during the era of military strongman Gen. Soeharto when he controlled everything under the dictatorship of the his military regime? Nothing, except this time we will have a dictatorship of religious regime not unlike the Taliban and Sulla.

Don’t get me wrong, I think making sex tapes of yourself is a stupid thing. No matter what excuse you have, private collection, personal enjoyment yada yada yada. SEX TAPES HAVE BEEN LEAKED TO THE MEDIA SINCE FOREVER and for many reasons. So making one just makes you a sitting duck for personal humiliation and in the case of those living in Indonesia, a prime candidate for jail. But I don’t think that it’s such a big deal that the whole country should focus on this issue and forget that we actually have much bigger and much realer problems on our hands.

We have plenty of other things to focus on, such as the on going corruption eradication, educating the people, teaching the nation to be more tolerant of different people, annihilation of poverty / ignorance / radicalism, providing the people with better and affordable healthcare and education, giving the people a real ‘voice’ and not a “controlled” one (don’t ask me who controls it, you’re just looking for trouble if you do), better the country and big cities’ infrastructure, and of course there’s the ever important improvement of the quality of life of the people of Indonesia, not to mention the quality of its government.

As you can see, there are so many other things to focus on, but instead we choose to always focus on that business going on between our legs – our crotches, so to speak. And it’s bizarre that we are so fixated on sex all the time since we’re not even a shy nation who don’t have sex, we obviously fuck like rabbits, apparent from the number of the people who are registered as Indonesians (estimated at 240 million people and counting). So we are obviously not a sexless nation.

So what went wrong?

I don’t know, I don’t know if you know. But if you do, by all means let me know. I just want to wake up one day and to stop reading silly news and silly current event linked to Indonesia, is that too much to ask?

So I guess we are all familiar with the coined phrase: “Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus”, yes? (Gay men have dual citizenships to both planets, btw) And I suppose although you know that this is true and you might feel like you have acknowledged this and played it cool, your male partners still have the nerve to say that you constantly nag them about the littlest of things, while you KNOW you are not guilty of the said crime, correct? (At about now, you probably think: “So what if I nag a little? He is so insensitive sometimes that it’s a crime NOT to say anything about it. Besides, he deserves my nagging, and it’s not like I do it ALL THE TIME!”)

Well my beautiful Venusian friends, let me let you in on a little secret. You do nag, and you do so ALL THE TIME. Don’t feel bad or anything, it’s in our system. When we were born, those who have a penis and who are destined to want to stick their penises in vaginas have 7 switches in their heads turned on, namely: FOOD , SEX, NAKED GIRLS/BOOBIES, TV, SPORTS, VIDEO GAMES, CARS/MACHINES.

Those of us who are lucky enough NOT to have a penis when we were born (or those of us who have penises but do not want to get them anywhere near a vagina) get much more switches turned on. Among them are: FEELINGS, LOVE, CUDDLING, SHOPPING, WINDOW SHOPPING, E-SHOPPING, FASHION, JEALOUSY, CUTE BAGS/SKIRT/TOP/SHOES, MANIPULATION, JEWELRY, EMOTIONAL BLACKMAIL, ABILITY TO DRIVE A MALE BY HIS ORGAN, EVENT ORGANIZING, MULTI TASKING, ABILITY TO MIX AND MATCH COLORS, EXPERTLY SHEDDING TEARS AT WILL, FAST TALKING, FURIOUS TALKING, FURIOUS TALKING THAT MAY SEEM LIKE WE ARE NOT FURIOUS, CONTEMPLATE EVIL PLANS WITHOUT A FLAW, ABILITY TO INVERT A PENIS WITH LESS THAN 10 WORDS WHEN WE ARE PISSED OFF AT OUR MEN,  NAG, NAG, NAG and more NAGGING.

Girls, do you want to know the secret of a beautiful and long relationship without you having to nag all the time and your guy ignoring you or being a total jerk-face?

To quote my favorite comedian Russel Peters: “BE A MAN!” (and to quote myself: “Quit being a needy psycho bitch, beyotch!”)

We need to learn to be more of a Martian and less of a Venusian in order to win the war. Plus girls, we need to choose our battles. Yes, you heard me, choose our battles wisely. You don’t understand what I mean? Ok, let me lay this one out for you.

1. You hate that he leaves his dirty laundry on the floor of your bedroom, and then you nag.

2. You hate that he doesn’t put the toilet seat back down, and then you nag.

3. You hate that he spends more time with his buddies/watching sports/in the garage, and then you nag.

4. You hate he leaves a trail of food from the kitchen to the living room and even to the bedroom, and then you nag.

5. You hate that he forgets birthdays/anniversaries, and then you nag.

6. You hate that he can be the most insensitive asshole, and then you nag.

7. You hate that he never brings you flowers, even on special occasions, and then you nag.

8. You hate that he seldom says “I Love You” and then you nag.

9. You hate that forgets to put stuff back to where they belong which gives you a hard time trying to find everything when you urgently need them, and then you nag.

10. You hate that he can be such a slob, and then you nag.

11. You hate that he can wear socks with holes/old worn out clothes/awful clothes, and then you nag.

12. You hate that he can’t multitask and do SIMPLE things correctly, and then you nag.

13. You hate that he makes a mess in the kitchen and acts like he has a domestic helper (read: you), and then you nag.

14. You hate that all he thinks about is sex, except when there is a football match which is when you are usually feeling frisky and want some, and he totally ignores you. And then you nag.

15. You hate it when he acts like he is the know it all Do it Yourself handyman, when he actually isn’t and goes to ‘fix’ (and by fix I mean wreck) the plumbing to save a few extra bucks, and then you nag.

And that’s just to start with.

While this is what your guy hates:

1. He hates that you nag. (and he probably also hates it when you tell him you have a headache when he wants ‘action’ but he won’t say anything about that out of fear of not getting ANY AT ALL)

Do you see the difference? A man’s mind is simple, it has only 7 ‘on’ switches or compartments, all other things will be classified in sub compartments under the 7 main ones. Men are somewhat intelligent, but of course Women (and gay men) are superior, which is why it is hard for a man to understand and appreciate the intricate and sophisticated design of a woman’s brain because in order to do so, one must have a higher thinking ability. Lesser intelligence can communicate with a man because they are simpler by nature. It’s easier to train a man, the same way you train a pet. Give them treats (food or sex) whenever they do something you want, and give them punishments when they don’t, and it’s home run from then on.

So in order to make them understand that you mean business, you need to choose your battles. Instead of nagging over every single thing he does which do not conform with your standards, you need to choose a few (and by a few I mean less than 5) of the major principal ones.

The less you nag, the higher probability that he will pay attention when you are angry because subconsciously he will think that you two are alike (athough you’re just mimicking him to gain trust), that your rare anger that only surfaces the very few times you are annoyed about whatever (MAJOR) thing he did wrong/not to your liking means you are dead SERIOUS, and he should bloody well listen if he wants to avoid being in the doghouse indefinitely.

Being all hysterical and Glenn Close-y circa ‘Fatal Attraction’ especially threatening him with stuff, or worse with idle suicide threats (we’ve all done this at one point of our lives, btw) when you don’t get your way may work the first few times but it gets tiring after a while and in the end he will think you’re just a drama queen, or worse, a psycho bitch.

Also, go easy on the tears. The more times you shed tears in front of him, the less they will have effect on him. When you can’t hold your tears, let them out, but do not cry like a stupid bimbo. Go the bathroom, turn on the shower and then cry so he doesn’t know. If you come out with swollen eyes and he sees you, let him see you but do not let him know that it’s that big of a deal to you, he will respect you more if you do not appear like a silly cry baby who nags and cries and use emotional blackmail everytime you want something done your way.

Women get insecure, and men too, definitely. But the most annoying thing about a woman when they are insecure is expect their partners to reaffirm their love to them over and over again. One “do you love me?” question is fine. But to keep asking that over and over again is a bit juvenile. Insecurity is a part of life, but the trick is to not let it dominate and ruin your life.

Men have a totally different way of thinking than women. For men, marrying a woman is the ultimate proof of their love to a woman. If they didn’t love their wives that much, they wouldn’t have married them in the first place.  But the most annoying of all for your run of the mill Martian is definitely how women expect them to read their minds and come up with these outlandish expectations of romance, like what they see in Rom-Coms, as proof of their love when they think they have given enough proof to last their women a lifetime

Remember, all those romantic comedies/chick flicks are FAIRY TALES written by scriptwriters in Hollywood, the la la land of express marriages, express divorces and the land of ’sex without feelings doesn’t constitute as cheating’. So it’s obvious these scriptwriters aren’t the most credible people when it comes to relationships. Of course there are Martians who see this as a challenge and will do surprising things to please you, but they are either gay but so oblivious and so deep in the closet that he might as well be in Narnia, or is an expert in being married, which is not necessarily what you want in a man.

Men think their ‘little ladies’ are the epitome of perfection. No matter if you fart in front of him, or hide the fact that you are human and as such, do the no. 2 daily in the toilet. When they love their women, it’s nonjudgmental love, and more often than not they are too blind to see our shortcomings. When they do realize we have shortcomings, they will accept it and love us all the same.

Women, on the other hand (especially ones who think they are perfect), expect their men to be the most perfectest of all. Even those who DON’T think they are perfect like to think their men are, ergo, they put him on a pedestal. Except they forget that when you start to put anything too high up on a pedestal, it’s bound to fall. And when it falls, it will fall so hard that it’ll no doubt be deeply disappointing (and make a lot of noises).

And girls, let’s all accept the fact that us girls do not take disappointment lightly, which is a little dangerous when the disappointment is directed towards our significant others. It can very well destroy a perfectly acceptable marriage by way of seeking greener pastures.

When you and your Martian God get into an argument, be as reasonable (read: as Martian) as you can be. Instead of satisfying your need to scream and shout or cry to melt him or make him feel sorry for you, or endlessly talk about ‘the problem’, sometimes it’s better to give it time. Cool off, sleep on it, and talk about it the morning.

I often experience a problem that appeared gigantic at first become a fraction of that the next morning, even without the amazing angry sex the night before. This is the best way to deal with Martians, sleep on it or give him space and time. Because as I said before, their brains are quite simple, so they need time to absorb things and let things sink in. After some time they will realize that they have made a mistake, and they will feel regret. MUCH regret.

They might not immediately apologize in so many words, but you will see that they will start doing things to SHOW you that they are sorry. They are creatures who like to exhibit their feelings instead of articulating it, and you have to understand, it’s not because they don’t want to, it’s because their articulation muscles were not fully developed, due to the fact that they have only 7 switches turned on in childbirth.

If you insist to scream and shout and cry and nag to your Martian slave, you have to accept the risk of him tuning you out. Imagine a comic strip or a cartoon in which the miserable wife keeps on yapping and after 2 shot seconds the husband hears nothing but, “blablablablablablabla.. beer.. blablablablablablabla…meat…blablablabla..” I’m sure none of you would want to be tuned out, but if you are some kind of a masochist who gets off by being treated like a dumb bitch who don’t matter much, then be my guest, do it your way.

So, now you know more about how the mind of a Martian really works. And hopefully with this new and powerful information, you will be able to conduct life with ease and control your Martian without them knowing that you are controlling them. Remember, give them battle victories, but in doing so, you will win the war. And also, the anagram of  “LOVE AND MARRIAGE” is “DRIVE A MALE ORGAN” and to have a successful marriage full of love, you must master the art of ‘driving’ and you must never be ashamed to ask for directions.

Good luck!

Aunt Agonizing Rima

I am seriously impressed at how in today’s economy these people became twice richer than they were before, some even tripling their net worth. But soon the impressiveness wears off and just becomes blah, bordering on disgust.

Why disgust?

Because while these people became richer than the devil, millions are struggling to come up with enough money to buy their next meal.

I hope all of these rich people donate to charities, make foundations to help the poor or give to the less fortunate, I hope that they do their part to help the community and the Indonesian people. Because I know rich people who help out in every way they can to those who are in need and still end in deep shit. For these people to enjoy an immense wealth but be all selfish and all scrooge-y while millions around them are living in hardship is an atrocity.

If they don’t do all or any of those, well, I hope they can never sleep on their thousands of dollars mattresses (probably filled with cash), their several thousand count Egyptian cotton sheets, their luxury homes and state of the art air conditioning systems. I hope they secretly suffer from multiple diseases, the more life threatening the better. But at the very least these diseases or health problems should be highly annoying and affecting their quality of life in a very bad way.

Wishful thinking, true. But one can hope, can’t she?

I just had a rude awakening. I realized that I am almost middle aged (I know I’m exaggerating, but this is what I feel like), I’m no longer a pretty young thing (so many pretty young things out there and no matter what I do I just don’t cut it anymore) and my life is well, boring.

What the hell happened? Where did my life go? When did I go from being a singer who’s all kinds of hip and cool to a hausfrau who blends with the wallpaper in the background?

*Soundtrack from the movie Psycho when Norman Bates was lurking behind the shower curtain with the knife in his hand followed by a hysterical scream of – ironically – a pretty young thing*

EEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeekkkkkkkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And as if it’s not enough, not only am I a boring hausfrau, I don’t even have the guts to be one of those boring hausfraus who live a somewhat exciting double life as a stepford wife one minute and a nymph the next (and who just happens to occasionally fuck the odd UPS/FEDEX/DHL/whatever delivery or handyman who knocks on their doors.)

Shit, I’m just a plain and boring hausfrau who seem to only obsess about her cooking (all the time) and even more often about eating! Although lately I have been having a new dream about opening my own restaurant one day (FYI, I’m yawning as I type this).

What’s worse, I don’t even have a kid! (not that I want to, can’t imagine how dead-end my life would be with one *shudders*) So what’s my excuse for falling down the abyss of dingy and dismal nothingness with no social life whatsoever? (And being eternally broke should not be one of them)

This feeling of self-loathing is probably because I’m going to be 34 in three weeks.

Yes, I am aware that I have finally confessed as to how old I really am, publicly. I’m doing this because I now have come to terms with the fact that it’s not as if I’m gonna be the next Lady Gaga, thus there is no need  to shave a couple or 6 years off my age anymore (the standard practice in the entertainment world).

I’ve landed back on earth, performed the much needed reality check and found out that although I’m a good singer, I do not live in the entertainment capital of the world, thus making opportunities for making it in the biz as slim as a virile but extremely ugly man getting laid by something other than his hand.

Plus, as good a singer as I am, I know my talents as a singer/songwriter is at best 6,5 out of 10 (Britney being 2,5 and Alicia Keys 9). Also, I don’t look the part anymore, so all the dreams I once had are running away from me (probably ashamed to be associated with a well-oiled drone of a homemaker as myself, kinda like how my ‘cool’ friends seems to be ashamed to introduce me to their other ‘cool’ friends) so now I have to get new ones, hence, the dream of opening my own restaurant one day.

Sighs.

To be honest, this is one of the very seldom times that I feel sorry for myself. I feel too privileged to be sorry for myself because I know that my garbage can eats better than 30% of the world’s population; that I have plenty to be thankful for; that I have many talents that comes in handy at times;  that I know a lot of things, trivial and otherwise; that I am an able bodied and sound minded person; and that as boring as my life might feel like, it sure beats the hell out of some other boring hausfrau’s who can’t sing or cook or write or bake with a lazy ass husband and hyper active kids to take care of. So I’m still in the lead, like the Blair Waldorf of a local brothel/cesspool/insert your favorite shitty place here.

But lately even knowing that I’m still in the lead don’t cheer me up as easily.

Maybe because I feel like instead of settling down or take root, I am instead settling with what I have in my life although I feel I can have more. I have even violated one of my very important self rule, one of the very few but very important life guidelines (oh, the horror!) which is:

“Thou shalt not think that others’ grass are greener, thou shalt not even think about looking at others’ belongings and feel all sorry for thyself after finding out others have a more awesome life/job/friends/spouse/bags/boob job!”

Yes, I am ashamed to say that I have been peeking into some of my friends’ life, with the help of the all knowing facebook, and saw that some of them seem to have very awesome lives. (But I’m happy for y’all though, seriously!)

I envy those single and/or fabulous friends of mine who are out all night with a bunch of equally cool friends, drinking, getting hammered and partying endlessly like there’s no tomorrow (and like there’s no backaches and headaches that will haunt them for at least 5 days after the said party <– side effects of being 30 something going on 56).

I miss the days when I was one of them, a kupu kupu malam social butterfly, the life of a party, a cool gal everybody wanted to hang out with; the girl every girl wanted to be and every man wanted to do.

Ok, I admit the flu medications I took this morning might have been stronger than I would expect – or did I mistakenly took Diazepam instead? – so I might be hallucinating a bit down memory lane here, but be a doll and save a whale. (Before I hear any snarky remarks: Yes, I’m a whale. Suitable in all sense of the word, size-wise and the fact that people like me are near extinction..)

But as I spiraled further down the abyss of self-loath and drab, I suddenly had a moment of clarity (and these things do not come very often to me, I think I had one in ‘94, twice in ‘98 and 2001, not more than 3 times between the periods of 2003 to 2006 and then it just stopped appearing altogether, kinda like my libido) and I knew I had to snap myself out of it.

“Goddamn it, girl. Listen to your sorry ass!” My sane self told my pathetic self.

“You’re comparing yourself to other people again, and you know what good it usually brings you, right? Nothing, nada, zip, zilch!

Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and think hard. Think hard about yourself and other friends of yours who were once a so-called social butterfly.” My sane self kept on saying.

“Think about them? And then what? And so what If I am feeling sorry for myself? Don’t I have the right to do at least that?” I asked

(at this point, Mr. Husband is looking at the both of us  with a very concerned look on his face)

“Well for one thing, let me tell you the synonyms of Social Butterfly. Hedonist is one, pleasure seeker is another. Both not necessarily with good connotations. If a social butterfly’s life aim is to constantly seek pleasure then it just means that they haven’t been able to find it. So you see, at the end of the day they are kind of pathetic, don’t you think?

To go on and on in life seeking pleasure and not being able to get it, not even able to locate where it is, now that’s horrifying! You should know how lucky you are that your life is not that empty! You’ve done what they’re still doing now, you’ve found your pleasures, and now you have something many of those people don’t: Contentment.

Contentment is not something that a lot of people have, and it’s not easily found. So be happy, be content that you don’t have to constantly worry about what you are going to do or where you must go every weekend in order to ‘keep on existing’ and to make yourself feel good.

Be happy that staying home and trying out new recipes; cuddling with your husband in bed while watching a nice movie or a marathon of TV series; having friends over and cooking for them; give you the highest form of joy, something you were never  able to experience during your hedonistic period,” my sane self stressed.

“Well, if you put it that way….” I reluctantly replied.

So boys and girls, the moral of the story is that I’m getting older, life is not by any means easier, people’s lawns will ALWAYS appear greener, but it just means that their water bills are higher, and they haven’t done their bit to conserve the environment which just makes them assholes. But I digress.

For all I know, those people I have been secretly envying might also secretly envy what I have. Maybe not what I have literally, but probably the sense of tranquility and contentment that I constantly ooze, not to mention the wisdom I have that is well beyond my years. (right about now, I can hear my brother Rama and friend Therry’s vomiting sounds in the background).

But basically, there is always something that we have, be it a worldly possession or something within, that people envy or admire. And there is always something that others have that we envy or admire. Nobody has it all, and nobody has nothing at all. And that’s the ugly truth.

Now, if you’ll all excuse me, it’s lunch time and I’m about to devour the beautiful dish I made that is sitting in front of me, staring at me for the past hour.

Ooh.. that’s one advantage of being a stepford wife right there! I’m able to make fabulous meal for a fraction of the price that those lovely singleton friends of mine (and some married ones as well) have to pay in a restaurant each time they want to eat something delish!

Ta-ta!

You know how annoying it is to start to write something on MS Word or start to make something on MS Excel only to have that annoying office assistant bugging you, wanting to know your business, right?

I would have thought that the know-it-alls there in Microsoft have a little more imagination, but apparently not. I mean, as long as we are bugged by that annoying office assistant, the least you guys can do is be creative, funny and imaginative.

You can make assistants like these that I found on the internet:

Nice, huh?

If you can’t think of anything else, here’s a thought. EMPLOY ME!!!

Here are MY VERSIONS of the assistants below. I would make more, but this is my lunch hour, and I do have to get something to eat, so I had time only to make three today. Maybe I will make more in the future, maybe not. Who knows? (Yeah with me, nobody knows. I’m like God that way. Unpredictable.)

An MS Word assistant for lying, cheating whores:

An MS Excel assistant for those desperate and out of a job without hope of finding another job:

I even made an assistant for the consumption of the Indonesian ALAYs! And God knows we have so many of them now and this could be very profitable for Microsoft.

Come on Microsoft, you won’t be sorry having me in your work-force! I am after all the epitome of Awesome!

Ps: I can start immediately.

I have nothing against the moon or the sun, but I have however noticed how during full moon, at least here in Brussels, strange behavior among people – my friends and I included – are on the rise. Strange occurences as well.

And as if 12 full moons per year is not enough, there's an extra moon that happens in every two or three years called the blue moon (which after some internet researching, only now does the term “once in a blue moon” make sense to me).

There will be two full moons that will occur in one month this year, and both will happen in December. Today, December 2nd, we will have a nice and bright full moon. We will also have a blue moon on December 31st.

Now I have no way of knowing what's gonna happen today, my family and friends might not think whatever's gonna happen or whatever's happened to me is weird at all as they all think I AM the one that's weird to the core, but I know that something weird is gonna happen. To me. As always.

I was thinking to live blog today to let you all know what will happen to me today, but then I thought against it because I'm afraid that whatever's gonna happen to me might be embarrassing and can become incriminating evidence.

I can already imagine it now…

The streets are suddenly covered by a thick fog, and in a distance the sound of a bell as the clock strikes midnight starts to chime loudly…

“ding.. dong…ding….dong”

Strange sounds are starting to echo in the background.

“Aoooooooooooooouuuwww…. Aooooooouuuuuuuwww……….”

It sounds as if a pack of wolves is nearing by, howling loudly as to announce their presence. Strange, there's never wolves in this area, it’’s the city for God’’s sake! Why now? What's happening???

“AAaarggghhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” She can feel her flesh ripping as if there were a thousand swords cutting through her body from the inside out..

“Damn it.. What's going on?????? Aaaarrgghhhh .. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

“Bloody Hell, the full moon, the strange smells, the fog!! It all makes sense now. I'm turning into a werewolf!”

She struggled to keep the pain under control while slowly turning into a werewolf. She felt so hungry, a hunger so intense, nothing like she's ever experienced before. A hunger for blood, for fresh meat, a hunger for fresh live meat. She could even smell the fear of the people in their homes as they peek out their windows and see her roaming the streets in her new form.

“What's that smell??? Mmmmmmmmmmm.. delicious.. it smells like fresh young meat.. could it be???” As she tried to find the source of the smell she spotted a terrified young man who started to run for his life.

“Hahahahah.. he thinks he can run away from me? My first meal??? I'll show him who's boss!!” she started to run after him.

(..After 100 metres of sprinting….)

“Darn it, I'm soooo tired!!” Panting, she rested herself on the side of the road. Then she noticed a big window and looked at her reflection.

“WHAT?? After turning into a werewolf, I'm STILL bloody FAT??? What the fuck?? So now I'm Rima the fat werewolf???” She cursed and howled in frustration holding back her tears and her hunger inside.

“Fuck it, Imma go home and order Chinese take out.” She started heading back home while dialling her favorite Chinese take out place on her mobile. Chicken Kung Pau sprang to her mind.

Ok, I admit my imagination is fucked up and weird. But it is the full moon tonight, and maybe it's not all myth? I mean, look at how strange my story is! At least it's not as embarassing as this cartoon! (look below, click HERE to go to the blog where I got it from)

Happy full moon everyone!

So, I got up this morning and felt lighter than usual. I know it might be my head playing tricks on me again, but I decided to weigh myself (after like a month of proclaiming that the bathroom scale is my sworn enemy, the Voldemort to my Harry Potter).

As you might already know, I”ve gained a massive amount of weight these past two years. I”ve been stressed out about it, and even depressed because of it, but the past couple of months I”ve decided to be realistic because I have finally given in to the idea that life is like a junkie pimp. It sometimes gives you bad clients who beat you and don”t pay up, but you can”t complain cos at least you still have license to work that street corner where most of the normal looking johns look for their hoes. Now I choose to not pay attention to my extra weight anymore, and anybody who has a problem with it can go screw another ho at a lesser street corner *looks at Mr. Husband while shouting “Boo-Yah!”*

So I went into my bathroom and slid out the scale from under the sink. It’’s gotten dusty. On top of it was a bucket filled with numerous bottles of cleaning products. Seemed like the bucket’’s been on the scale the past month, as usual Mr. Husband must”ve forgotten to put it back in the storage room, typical. I put the bucket somewhere else, took off my clothes and stepped on the scale.

“YIPPIE!!!!!!!!!!” I screamed in my head loudly as the needle pointed to a cool 180 lbs (because that would mean that I”ve lost some serious weight). Then as I was still on the scale I bent down to take the bucket with the cleaning products in it (which easily weighs over 10 lbs) and saw that the needle didn”t budge, at all. It still pointed to that magic number, 180.

Darn it. I did not lose any weight, the bloody scale was broken and was stuck. It will go lower, but it won”t go higher than 180.

Was going to go out and buy me a new scale but then I thought to myself that I needed to treat myself to a present, however ”creative” the present may be (and by creative I mean something I can tell myself over and over again to make myself feel better which doesn”t need to be the truth cos truth hurts and anybody who says otherwise is a huge idiot), so I decided to hold off buying the new scale and keep my old and ”friendly” one at bay. Who needs a shrink when self-deception works just as well? (and at times even better!)

—–

When we were in Rome early this month, we were so tired from all the walking around that when we slept, we slept a sleep so deep that we had the strangest dreams. I won”t go into the details of how kinky some of our dreams were, but on the last night we were there, I dreamed that I won the lottery, and I actually remember ALL the winning numbers! I woke up at around 4 am, saved the winning numbers in my phone and went back to sleep. We woke up that morning at 7.30 am, and I vaguely remembered getting up and saving some numbers in my phone but I didn”t know whether it was real or if it was another dream.

Still sleepy, I reached for my phone and checked it. Sure enough the numbers were all there!!

Once we were back in Brussels, I immediately bought lottery tickets using those ”lucky” numbers. I”ve had a period in my life that all I did was listen to motivational speakers, all kinds of ”em. All of them, Anthony Robbins included, said that in order to be successful/rich/thin/God/you name it, you must think that you have already achieved all that and it will come true.

So that’’s what I did. I thought long and hard, said the mantra and managed to really BELIEVE that I had the looks of Angelina Jolie, the body of Giselle Bundchen and in possession of the winning lottery numbers (in which the prize was Euro 100 million).

Came Friday, the day the numbers were drawn, I sat confidently in front of the TV while the glass ball filled with the lottery numbers were spinned. One by one the numbers were revealed.

And no, I didn”t win. Plus I still looked like the Rima Fauzi you all know and love.

Those motivational speakers don”t know an ass from a head and if I ever come across any of them, I”m gonna kick their asses to kingdom come. (Believe you”re already rich my ass. Pfffftt!!)

——–

Finally, as I was surfing the net tonight (which is code for googling myself), I found something that made me feel good once again. It was more proof that I am awesome.

Apparently I”m so awesome that a random blogger put me on a list in their blog! This is someone I don”t know (therefore I did not coerce that person to link me or mention me in their blog), who isn”t a friend, and who isn”t even Indonesian. How cool is that?

I know this ”achievement” might be perceived by some as pathetic and un-awesome, but they are nothing but pessimistic nay-sayers. Much like the Jewish people who thought that Jesus was a nobody carpenter while in fact he was the son of God. HA! Who’’s pathetic now? *elevating myself and my awesomeness to the level of Jesus. Well, maybe slightly below him as I am a bit on the heavy side*

This blog that is obviously owned by a really intelligent human being to have been able to appreciate and recognize my awesomeness is called Schmutzie.

Schmutzie, I now declare that you are also (partly) made of awesome. And that’’s just for mentioning me in your blog! Just imagine what I will declare you as if you had my picture as a banner in your blog! I might declare you my chief minion!

There you go, my awesome post for the day! (non-believers need not read this blog)

I am, well rather was (emphasize on the past tense), a pure Jakartan. During my childhood, we lived in East Jakarta, in the nicest area of East Jakarta, but nonetheless East. Jakarta is divided into give boroughs; East, West, North, South and Central. Before the mid 90s, those living in Central Jakarta are posh. Suharto and his clan lived there. But after the great Jakartan flood (all throughout the 90s) Central Jakarta just became icky to live in, and the posh invaded South Jakarta, hence the beginning of the ’South Jakartans’ era.

Our family moved a lot. After living abroad and in a city in Borneo, we moved back to Jakarta, this time South Jakarta. I became a South Jakartan since college, adopted their mentality and blended. My brothers are true South Jakartans as they have lived there since they were in junior highschool. My parents aren’t Jakartan at all, they moved to the Big Durian not by choice but by circumstance.

We South Jakartans (especially the middle-upper class) are usually somewhat arrogant, well-dressed, well spoken, able to speak (at least) English very well, well educated and traveled and we have a penchant for expensive things – whether food, hang out places, clothes or accessories, plus we LOVE to shop. We also have a rather large following of non South Jakartans and Indonesians from other cities and even *gasps!* villages who aspire to be like us (looks bitchily down to the floor while waving hand to dismiss a servant a la Miss Mariah Carey the diva) and will go to great length to do so (will not elaborate on what those great length are but I suspect some people might already know what I’m talking about. (And by some people I mean you, Therry!)

Now our love for shopping transcends time and space, and more often than not, it denies common sense and logic.

I say this because most times all we look for in a place is a shopping center. Take for example a group of South Jakartan (or South Jakartan wannabee) ibu ibus on a trip to Prague. The average South Jakartan would go hunt cheap crystal in Prague rather than marvel at the beautiful architecture of he old buildings there. When in New York, most of us get all wet and excited from the thought of going to factory outlet centers even if they are one or two hours away or even in JERSEY!

The same thing goes when we are on a trip to Paris/London/Los Angeles/insert your favorite city to be visited here. All we want is to find the best shopping venues, better if it has a discount, best if it’s an outlet selling high end stuff for a fraction of the original price so that we can go back home and act as if the Dior clutch we are carrying is a cheap plastic bag while in fact we make love to it every night and get orgasms from the reaction people have on their faces when they see us carrying it. (and by people I mean our not-so-close friends and acquaintances we like to prove we””””re better than)

Gossip time: I actually know a betch who claimed to have been to XXX so many times that it is a drag that she has to there again to take her family from Indonesia who”””’’s never been there. We (Mr. Husband, my brother, our friend Melissa and I) were planning to go to XXX at around the same time as them, and when ran into her and her family we then enthusiastically asked them if they went to castle such and such and bridge such and such because those places are just so breathtaking. Sure enough they haven””””t been there cos she didn’t know where these points of interests were. I mean, OMG! (Oh My God, not Oh Mai Jod) For someone who’s been there so many times…….. *speechless*

(In the next paragraph or two, try to read between the lines because I will be going to start writing in such a unique way that if you are smart and careful, you will get something else instead. Kinda like those 3D pics that were hits in the 90s)

Now, if I had the money, I would probably still be this way (Hell no, I’d rather die than to stay an pompous idiot!). I mean, I’m not judging these people because everybody has the right to do and be whatever they want (OF COURSE I’m judging these brainless people who can only carry a conversation when it’s about shops and where to get A, B, C at the best prices), and I still like the finer things in life and worldly goods (So pretentious it makes me barf) but I’d rather have the experience and memories of all the things I’ve seen and done than to have a series of branded bags/shoes/clothes/ass (prancing around looking like Burberry or Louis Vuitton just threw up on you just shows that you have nothing else to show but.  The sad thing is that I know people who looks like they had Burberry and LV throw up not only on them and their kids but, wait for it……….., their APARTMENT! And I KNOW FOR A FACT that their LV tissue holders are fakes).

I think I’ve let myself be surrounded by people who’ve given me bad influence for too long, and who definitely aren’t real friends. During the “Fun” times (which meant when we had more than enough to spend) they would always linger around, we’d go shopping together ALL THE TIME, and we’d be showing off our stuff to other people together, discreetly of course – after all, I’m a South Jakartan, it would be crass to show off our things the obvious way. Only the wannabees do that… *rolls eyes*

2008 onwards was tough for both Mr. Husband and me. Let’s say that we didn’t have as much to spend and we had to adapt a more creative way of living which included learning to enjoy the simpler things of life and making the best out of the worst. While we succeeded doing that, we also found out that those people we thought were friends actually weren’t at all! We also realised that there was so much more to life than shopping centers (and being brand whores).

We – me in particular – are truly blessed to have experienced a roller coaster ride we call life that has really taught us so much, especially to be grateful for what we have. I think being without life’s luxury and having MUCH LESS resources to spend have made us smarter, more inventive and resourceful when it comes to how to be happy. I’m still a South Jakartan inside, but now it’s just geography. I’m now much more content and happier than ever before and as much as I enjoy shopping I now only buy the things I need, regardless of the brand. Another thing that has changed is that I care very little of what people think of my personal belongings but more of what people think of my character, the way I think and the REAL me.

I know probably some of my friends think I may very well be on my way to becoming a delusional hippie, but life is so much fun when you get to see all the beautiful scenery the world has to offer than the stiff concrete walls covering those factory/boutique outlets. I mean, how many shops can you go through before you get nauseated anyway, right??

Hey everybody! It seems like my stupid sister has abandoned this blog yet again. While she's not here, I'd like to add some class to this blog by publishing  this very interesting piece I've been wanting her to, but as you know how that uptight bitch always thinks whatever I do is stupid and crass, she wouldn't publish this piece if her life depended on it.

Anyway, this story I'd like to share with you is just about how I know a girl who's obsessed with naming private parts. She named hers, she named her boyfriends' and now that she's married, she even named her husband's, although I'm not at liberty to tell you what it is, except that it starts with a “T” and ends with an “O” and has “he Bald Her” in the middle.

She started the whole naming private parts thing in 1995 when she named her then-man’s schlong ‘Moby Dick’. In turn, her then-man named hers ‘Xena’ because apparently, hers is ‘fierce, never gives up without a fight, and a biter’. Naturally, she stayed with that name because it made her seem like a sex goddess (unless she is now known as Sasha Fierce, in which she has yet to tell me about it).

In the early 2000s, I found out that she even named her breasts Bert & Ernie. Go figure.

Then as time goes by and as men glided in and out of her life, she kept on naming these men’s schlongs (or for some, schlorts) because she couldn't quite help herself, just like my sister in an all you can eat restaurant. There were some very stupid names, but there were several very memorable ones.

Some names that she told me about and that stuck in my mind were: Pharaoh, Son of God, Golden Knob, Corn on the Cob, The Vengeful Lollipop, Chicken Head (don’t ask where this name came from), Mr. President (this one is named after Bill Clinton who stands up whenever a woman enters a room), HDL – short for Huey, Dewey and Louie, apparently because that particular member was a triple threat), Fat finger, Absolut (she said this one kinda looked like the Absolut Vodka bottle) and Dick Tracy. This particular dick was named Dick Tracy not because of it’s inquisitiveness, but because it is, like the comic character, hard hitting, fast shooting and supremely intelligent. It might have worn spectacles at some point, smoked a cigar and was fathered by Einstein, I don't really know.

There was a particular one I remembered that she named Bob, after Bob Marley. She said she named it Bob because it was so intoxicating it was almost like weed, made her high everytime. At that point, I just wanted to take a drag.

I adored this girl and her imagination. We used to laugh for hours talking about these names and how she came up with them. I envied her ability to look at a dick but see an entirely different thing, almost like magic, or maybe hallucination. Maybe it's because of all the LSD she did in her youth.

I tried to name private parts for a while, and although I thought I came up with some genius names like Big Bird, Elmo, Oscar the Grouch and Cookie Monster, I realized that it wasn't really genius because it all came from Sesame Street Characters and it just made ME look like a freak with no childhood and disturbing father issues.

I stopped naming private parts names when I named one “Paul Cherboszky” and finally a “Hey You!”. I was spiralling down a pathetic'name your private parts&'tunnel and I didn't know how to step on the brakes.

But after a few tries and a lot of alcohol, I quit and now I just think people who name private parts are idiots, or freaky.

What about you, ever name private parts?

Some even go as far as connecting the time of the earthquakes to verses in their holy books. I mean, come on people, wake up and smell the coffee!

If you still think like that and you are in college or university or graduated from either one, I feel sorry for you, it seems like you wasted a lot of money and didn’t get your money’s worth which is to turn you into individuals with brains that actually function with logic and reason.

Indonesia Anonymous was nice enough to say that they see nothing wrong in being religious and thinking that these disasters were the will of God. Well I think it’s really stupid to think that this has anything to do with God, and the same thing with being religious, but that’s just me and my motor mouth’s opinion.

Just to answer those religion fans out there that might have some beef with me (and by beef I mean crazy rage that might want me dead for even suggesting that their God is a very mean, egotist and vengeful God who is a crazy narcissist wanting constant attention and smites people when he doesn’t have it by way of  tsunami/earthquake/forest fires/floods/insert your favorite natural disasters here) and ask “So Miss Smarty Pants, if it’s not God who made all of this happen, then who did? Whose fault is this??”

To all religious zealots out there, the things that cause these natural disasters are:

a. Well, other than the fact that our country is on a very sensitive part/plateau of the earth where things like this is bound to happen, it’s also ..

b. The greed of our government and big companies who pay off those in the government for letting them continue to cut trees, eroding the land; big fishing companies who catch ALL kinds of fishes (sometimes boots and cans, just like in cartoons) and destroy corals and other stuff in the sea, also causing erosion and disturbance in the sea while making money; letting just about anybody with money and resources tamper with nature for the sake of getting more Rupiahs, making Ibu Pertiwi (tr. what we call Indonesia when we were little, a romanticized name of the archipelago) more susceptible to damage and natural disasters.

It’s not God’s will, really. It’s the greed and stupidity of our government and the rich people who steer the government (my analogy: Government = monkey; Rich people who steer the government = Monkey trainers who have a LOT of bananas).

The sad thing is that as usual the poor are always the victims. And most of the rich are too busy jet setting or partying to care what happens to the poor. It’s a shitty world we live in and it really stinks. Cos shit stinks.