House Moment

Stacy: “Our relationship is like an addiction. It’s— like—”

House: “Really good drugs?”

Stacy: “No, it’s like— vindaloo curry.”

House: “Ok, sure—”

Stacy: “Really, really hot Indian curry they make with red chilli peppers.”

House: “I know what it is! Didn’t think it was addictive.”

Stacy: “You’re abrasive and annoying and come on way too strong, like… vindaloo curry. When you’re crazy about curry, that’s fine but no matter how much you love curry, you have too much of it, it takes the roof of your mouth off. And then you never want to see curry for a really, really long time but you wake up one day and you think, God I really miss curry”

[the two people move close together]

Stacy: “You’re a jerk.

…

♥ ♥ ♥

[Stacy Warner (Sela Ward) and Dr. Gregory House (Hugh Laurie), from Fox Broadcasting Company's TV series, House, M.D.]

Baked Proposal ♥

I have been obsessed about baking cupcakes this past couple of weeks, and as a result, I have been browsing the web for recipes. The pretty pictures some blogger posted really served to feed my obsession. It is now officially as big as the Loch Ness, if the Loch Ness exists.

Here’s some of my favorite sites:
http://www.bakerella.com
http://cupcakeblog.com
http://cookingismypassion.blogspot.com
http://chockylit.blogspot.com

This is why I ♥ http://cookingismypassion.blogspot.com:

.

I mean, you gotta admit that they’re so damn cute. I practically eat my laptop screen the moment I saw them.

Okay, I’m exaggerating.

Those are definitely too cute to eat. I just licked the screen. =p

But my favorite website is still bakerella:

Those are not hamburgers. Those are cupcakes pretending to be burger buns, and brownies pretending to be hams, and green icing playing lettuce, yellow icing playing mustard, and of course, red one is the sauce.
http://www.bakerella.com/fast-food-fun/

But the post I saw today, totally topped all those cuteness above. It’s this one:

It’s cake on a lollipop stick, shaped as a wedding cake. The writer claimed that it can be given for:

• An engagement party
• A wedding shower
• Wedding favors
• You could even propose with them

Pay attention to the last option.

Because…

.

.

.

.

And then there’s some writings underneath the last picture:

While the sarcastic part in me thinks that Rich is such a cheapskate, proposing through a website (a cooking website, no less), the hopeless romantic part in me thinks, “Awwwww…”

And she said yes!

=]

To Melissa and Rich, whoever and wherever you are, congratulations!

http://www.bakerella.com/wedding-cake-pops/

♥ Serena van der Woodsen!

♥ Serena van der Woodsen’s dark teal gown! =p

Engineering the Art

Dear Mr. 3,

If I may be so bold as to express my thoughts (which I am going to do anyway no matter what your answer is since you’re never going to read my blog, so wth), you are a teacher in chemical engineering. Which is to say, your teaching post requires you to teach things about chemical engineering. Which is to say, you should teach, lecture, and evaluate accordingly.

If deemed necessary, I am sure we will have a course in arts engineering. Or poetry engineering. Or maybe creative writing engineering. I dunno don’t know. But I do know that until that day arrived when engineers are required to write in calligraphy, or (Heavens help us) write Standard Operation Procedure in Shakepearian, I strongly suggest you stick to your guns, and evaluate our works based on its merit. In ENGINEERING.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but you have never seen an artistic chemical plant. Red paint is not used under aesthetic considerations; red means danger. Am I correct? You don’t hang paintings. You don’t put plants. You don’t put colorful ergonomic sofas there. You do that in the lobby of the office building. And in the office itself. NOT in the factory. Now if I am an architect, I would care about artistic values. But since I am studying to be an engineer, and also because I don’t have the talent nor the artistic value nor the artistic knowledge, I ignore decorations. And I thought you would do so, too.

Guess I’m wrong.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not jealous or anything… I am simply PISSED.

If I wanted my artistic skills to be judged, I would have majored in ARTS! Or DESIGN! Or even architecture, I dunno don’t know. But I do know it won’t be engineering.

Ilmu, Teknologi, dan Seni, bukan Ilmu, Teknologi, Teknologi-Seni, dan Seni.

Sincerely,
Your Pissed Student

Dear Sister,

Dear Sister,

Happy birthdaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa~y

There's the birthday cake you didn't have =p

A year older.

YAY! =p

You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt, as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear, as young as your hope, as old as your despair (Paul H. Duhn).

I hope you had a blast! Hugs and kisses for you!!! =]

You know you love me.
XOXO

Nosy Noses

Indonesians claim to be less individualist than most other nationalities.

We Most Indonesians think that individualism is bad. We’re encouraged to do things together. “Gotong royong” or co-operation, as we call it. We even have a special section in our primary school education about it. I can make up all kinds of pretty sentences about it. Pretty, convincing, and totally meant-to-kiss-the-teacher’s-ass sentences.

If your primary education is in a school like mine, you’d know the kind. I used to think of exams as one giant blank on the exam paper, waiting to be filled with all kinds of bull shit and crap I can come up with. Of course, all kinds of related bull shit and crap I can come up with.

What was I going on about again?

Oh yeah.

Sure, human are social creatures. And we certainly can’t live alone. I mean, who’s gonna do my laundry. And cook my meals. Right? =p

But on the other hand, there’s a reason the countries who turned to socialism all seemed to go into self-destruction.

I believe there is a fine line —really, really fine, barely-there line, between helping others and intruding in their lifes.

I mean, if, say, your friend’s house caught fire, you would of course go help. Either financially, or maybe give him/her some of your clothes, moral support is of course encouraged, lecture notes and assignment notes are naturally offered.

But say that you have a hypothetical friend, who has no difficulty whatsoever. His house is not burnt. As a matter of fact, he’s financially well-off. He has parents who are supportive in his education. Despite his looks, he is actually smart. Or so people tell you. Yet he misses all his lectures, fails to attend even exams, and seems to have not a care in the world about his academic fate.

It was his parents in fact who seemed to put the most effort, after they found out what their son has been doing. From his academic counsellor.

Hypothetically, of course.

I would choose to let him be. After all, he’s 20-something, he’s old enough (and definitely BIG enough. Again, hypothetically speaking) to make his own decision. And to live with whatever his decisions led to. I’m not going to run around telling him to attend lectures. Maybe once or twice. But after that? Whatever, man, jump from the bridge and see if I care.

I’m definitely NOT going to talk about what a failure he is in front of the whole class. How we all have to help him.  How we all should graduate together. Telling him how to live his miserable life? Telling him to study? Telling him about as if I were his parents? Now that’s just nosy.

But that’s me.

Selfish, huh…

The “Charming” Charmed

This is what I did for a couple of days during my holiday:

Charmed Season 1

Crappy acting, cleavages, lousy effects, revealing clothes, cleavages, mushy lines, and cleavages!

Does it get any better? =p

However, I’m not a man. Cleavages don’t hold any appeal to me.
After a while, the “Don’t let me use my magic on you” and “Do I have to use my powers on you?” which is normally just disgusting is now officially nauseating.

One episode a day, is the appropriate dose. Don’t watch is marathonly like me. The side effect include involuntary hurling, goosebumps, cynical laugh, and it does not go away easily!

Sunday Morning Call

These J. Crew peep-toe pumps are calling my name. LOL

Lyla printed peep-toes, in papaya, was $250.00  select colors $129.99  item number 15447.
The website wrote:
Our newest love—Lyla, in the season’s prettiest prints, topped with a straw bow.

I usually hate papaya. The sight of it, the smell of it. The taste of it, moreover. But this papaya I won’t mind. ;]

Happy Sunday, everyone!!!

Between Yarn and Scarf

*Inspired by Gunawan Tanpanamabelakang =]

I had a ball of yarn.

White of color, brand new, and thick.

I was going to make something out of the yarn.

A scarf, a hat, a muffler, a glove, a vest? The list goes surprisingly long.

I took my time in deciding what I’m going to crochet.

After some time I decide a scarf. It’s practical. What use have I of a muffler? Or a glove? True, they’re much fancier, but they’re also harder to make. Why bother, when I can make something simpler.

Am I right or am I right? =p

So I started crocheting.

Chain stitches.

First row.

Second row.

Until the n-th row, I stopped and took a look at my work.

It was lopsided.

Instead of being square and nice, it was rounded and did not look like a scarf at all. If I continue it, it will eventually turned out circular. Instead of scarf, I’m going to have a tablecloth. Gah.

I don’t know why. Perhaps I am not very good at crocheting. Perhaps I made a wrong stitch somewhere. Perhaps I used the wrong type of yarn. Or the wrong size needle.

Perhaps the yarn is onto me. LOL

No.

I put it aside.

I don’t want to continue down this road where at the end of it I’m only gonna found a pair of blistered hands and a lopsided scarf. No one wants a lopsided scarf.

So I put it aside. I don’t have a scarf and I only got a part of my yarn. And I forgot about the both of them.

One day I opened my cupboard and there it was. My unfinished scarf, wrapped with the remainings of the yarn.

I took them, and I pulled the strings.

I figured if I am not going to have a scarf I might as well pull the unfinished scarf apart and take the yarn and turn it into something else. A flower, maybe. I probably can crochet a flower.

As I pulled on my unfinished scarf I got my yarn back. Only now instead of white yarn neatly tucked into a ball, I have a long string of yarn, now curled from the stitches I made long ago and piled up in one confusing, tangled heap.

So I started rolling the string. I pulled it, I straightened it, and I rolled it into the ball it used to be. At the end of this road, I’m going to have my ball of yarn, and I am going to make something out of it, only this time I’d be more careful. I’d stop at the end of a row and take a look at my work.

The Part Where I Melt

Mr. Darcy: How are you this evening, my dear?
Elizabeth Bennet: Very well… although I wish you would not call me “my dear.”
Mr. Darcy: [chuckles] Why?
Elizabeth Bennet: Because it’s what my father always calls my mother when he’s cross about something.
Mr. Darcy: What endearments am I allowed?
Elizabeth Bennet: Well let me think…”Lizzie” for every day, “My Pearl” for Sundays, and…”Goddess Divine”… but only on *very* special occasions.
Mr. Darcy: And… what should I call you when I am cross? Mrs. Darcy…?
Elizabeth Bennet: No! No. You may only call me “Mrs. Darcy”… when you are completely, and perfectly, and incandescently happy.
Mr. Darcy: [he snickers] Then how are you this evening… Mrs. Darcy?
[kisses her on the forehead]
Mr. Darcy: Mrs. Darcy…
[kisses her on the right cheek]
Mr. Darcy: Mrs. Darcy…
[kisses her on the nose]
Mr. Darcy: Mrs. Darcy…
[kisses her on the left cheek]
Mr. Darcy: Mrs. Darcy…
[finally kisses her on the mouth]

Vie: ♥   ♥   ♥   ♥   ♥  ♥  ♥  ♥  ♥  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

.

I really should find something better to do…