New Year!

December 31, 2008

Oooooh… New Year!

New page (supposedly), new beginnings, new start, etc etc etc…

And resolutions that I made but not intend to keep. =p

Happy new year everyone!


What A Sackdress Is

December 25, 2008

Nesia Obadja (in yellow dress) and Vie

Nesia Obadja (in yellow dress) and Vie

That wasn’t a sackdress.

People kept calling it “sackdress”, when it’s not, and it bothers me.

The yellow dress is a spaghetti-strapped mini dress.
It has two straps, one on each shoulders.

Now, a sackdress is actually made from sacks.

The trend started at 1959 when Dorothy Overall (yes, that’s right, her last name is Overall) won second place at the National Cotton Bag Sewing Contest. American women had long fashioned clothes from the cotton bags used as packaging for flour, meal, and animal feed.
“My mother used to make things out of sugar sacks,” recalled Overall, who lived on a Kansas wheat farm. “Even underwear. About everything they could buy that was savable, they used.”
By the 1940s, manufacturers even began to print sacks in attractive colors and patterns. “There were all kinds of prints, of every description, of most any color-striped, flowered, animal patterns, dotted, even plaid,” said Overall. “If my husband bought the feed, it didn’t usually suit me. He’d buy the first thing he saw. I usually took charge of buying the feed sacks.” The custom disappeared in the 1960s, as paper and plastic packaging replaced cotton sacks.


A sack dress

A sack dress

So you see, a sack dress is ACTUALLY made from a sack, where as the nice yellow mini dress that Ms. Obadja wore couldn’t possibly be made from sack. =p

Mother Van Gogh

December 18, 2008

That’s right.

My mother is possessed by the spirit of a painter. Not exactly Vincent van Gogh, though. Not Pablo Picasso either. Nor Carravagio, Vermeer, Chagall, Monet, Da Vinci, or any other famous dead painter you can think of.

She’s possessed with the spirit of a house painter.

Oh, if somehow you begin to browse the internet and found this blog, I’m seriously just kidding, Mum. Have mercy, please. =p

Yesterday I got home to a house smelling of paint. The top floors had been painted, and on the ground floor which was basically the garage, were tall metal stair, shorter wooden one, buckets filled with water, buckets filled with paint, empty buckets, brushes, and lots and lots of newspaper.

My Mum told me proudly that she had been repainting our house for almost a month now, starting from 7 AM, then she’s stopped at 10 to make lunch, then begun again at 12, stopping for coffee at 3 PM and finally called it a day at 6 PM.

“Wow,” I said, for I was dumbstruck for other words.

“Well, now she’s found other career choice instead of being a housewife,” my Dad said.

And while being home was great, that night I couldn’t shake off a faint feeling of doom. And as always, I was right. Today my mother told me to paint the lower wall of the ground floor, while she worked on the upper wall with the metal stair.

“This way it’ll be done more quickly,” she reasoned.

Yeah, sure.

60-Minutes Drama

December 17, 2008

Imagine having to wake up at 3 o’clock in the morning, at a holiday, to be on the 5 AM car heading to the airport, in order to catch the 10.50 AM flight.

Sucks, huh.

That’s what I had to do today.

Hence I couldn’t help but fell asleep on the car.

That’s right, all the way from Bandung to Cengkareng airport. The whole 4 hours. (I wonder why it took that long)

I checked my 16.2 kg luggage in, and headed toward the boarding room.

The boarding room was mostly vacant; it was only 9.30 and there’s 1 hour left before boarding the airplane. So I slumped myself on one of the metallic (hideous) chairs, and since I figured I shouldn’t sleep in the boarding room lest I drool or (God forbid) snore, I opened the book I’ve chosen for my journey home: Gone With The Wind by Margaret Mitchell. But I could really read the book for only 15 minutes.

I did not have the faintest clue that I have seated myself back-to-back with two most loud, most gossipy and slightly racist ladies. They were speaking in fast Hokkian, and quite loud too, so I thought they must’ve think I’m from Jakarta and hence wouldn’t understand a word they’re saying. (Ha! Hokkian is my mother tongue. And so is gossip. XD)

Their conversation was casual enough, about how lady no. 1 had just moved to her son’s house in Jakarta less than a year, while lady no. 2 have lived there for years. Lady no. 1 complained that she can’t get out of the house, there’s no one to drive her around, bla bla bla… I kept on reading about Scarlett O’Hara.

Lady no. 1: I have four sons, my youngest is 34 now. Just married and had a child.
Lady no. 2: My, four sons! At your age? Surely, you must have married young.
Lady no. 1: Oh, no. No, I did not. I am 65 this year. I did not marry young at all, when I got married I was 25.

At this remark my head shot up from my book. I almost turned myself 180 degrees and exclaimed, “WHAT!?”

Lady no. 2: Oh, then you sure don’t look your age.

At this remark, lady no. 1 laughed rather shyly (but did not deny the statement).

Lady no. 1: My second son’s wife is from Jakarta. My first son’s wife is from Medan. I told my other boys to look for Medanese woman. These women from Jakarta *clicked her tongue* they just went “Yes, yes,” when you tell them to do something, but they’ll never do it.
Lady no. 2: Yes, yes, they’re spoiled, aren’t they. But most young people nowadays are, too. My daughter-in-law hired one nurse per child. She and my son have three children, so three nurses. Women these days can’t do a thing themselves. They always have to hire help.
Lady no. 1: Yes, you’re absolutely right. I raised all four sons myself. Women nowadays can’t work.

Blablabla. One more reason not to get married. Chances are you’ll get one of those in-laws, who might be sugar and spice in front of you but trash-talk you with a total stranger.

Lady no. 1: And my eldest son has just adopted a child.
Lady no. 2: Oh?
Lady no. 1: Yes, they didn’t have a child and I’ve been urging them for ever so long. They adopted one from Medan. I told them to look for Chinese child. We don’t want some native child now, would we?
Lady no. 2: Of course not.
Lady no. 1: What horror it would be, to adopt some black child. *laughs*
Lady no. 2: *laughs*


Vie is going crazy…

Vie has an exam in about 5 hours, on industrial waste management, which she has to admit, she has not quite grasp.

She has not idea what this subject is about. Which is, actually, the thing about skipping classes. *oops*

Eight chapters, and Lord knows how many pages. She actually has only 3 chapters left to read, but still…her brain is not designed to memorize!!! Chances are she’ll forget what she read by the time the exam commences.

“Oh, for crying out loud!” she thought, “I’ll just go through with the remedial test.”

And with that wistful thought, she went to sleep. =)

1. Her great sense of style.

Prim and Proper

Prim and Proper

A teeny bit bohemian...

A teeny bit bohemian...



2. She’s pretty!!!
Okay, so we’re not supposed to like a person just because she’s pretty…but who cares? XD

I (Heart) Meester

I (Heart) Meester

A blonde Meester

A blonde Meester

As Blair Waldorf

As Blair Waldorf

3. I don’t know, I just like her. She’s like…so much like a doll that I can’t help but (heart) her. XD

Electronic things tend to break. They wore out in due time, they fell and some of their parts broke, they got a splash of water and broke, etc etc.

With me, they mysteriously went out of order. Especially of late.

First there’s Eugenie, the bitchy Laptop of mine.
She’s broken down a couple times, because of viruses, and twice I had to take her to the service center. One of which cost quite a lot of money.

Then there’s my water heater.
You know, the electric pot used to heat water, to make coffee or tea or dilute condensed milk. One day, out of the blue, the cable of my heater just snapped off. It just parted from the heater, just like that. I never yanked the cable on any occasion, but there it just went out, and I only stared at it for a couple of seconds before recovering myself; the severed cable, now showing it’s two strands of copper wires and their blue and green coating.

Then there was my printer.
It was minor, and happened about a year ago, but still, it had gone on strike once.

My Nikon coolpix 4300.
I was always extra careful with coolpix, both before my sister bought her own camera and so we shared coolpix, and after she bought her cool camera and gave this one to me for my own use. I never dropped it, I always kept it in its pouch, so WHY??
*deep breath*
One day, out of nowhere, it just won’t start. I thought the battery might be exhausted, so I recharged the battery and tried again. Still nothing.

My mp3 player, is the latest in my list called “The Electronic Devices I’ve Broke”.
Granted, I’ve dropped this thing for who knows how many times, and I got it in highschool, so it’s a long time ago XD
I was listening to it when suddenly it turned off on its own. I turned it on again, but after a few minutes it turned itself off again. I turned it on again, so on, until on time it wouldn’t start at all.

Thank Goodness my cell phones are never broken.
Well, of course, there was the Nokia 6020 that was almost retired but got stolen before I got a chance to sell it. So I bought a new one, and am crossing my fingers that this one live a long life. =)

I wonder whatever would happen should I enroll in electrical engineering…