Pak San

'Pak San doesn't walk. He runs.', my aunt observed.

And all of us nodded in unison.

Pak San was 59 years of age, but he didn't look any older than 45. Inhabitating a small figure and possessing a super human agility, Pak San did everything fast and efficient and still managed to give running commentaries to whatever conversation we had. Sometimes he even did it in Chinese. This, of course, annoyed my late grandma terribly. Here were her grandchildren, all clueless in their own grandmother tongue, and yet this driver could speak it oh so effortlessly.

Pak San had worked for my aunt for 18 years. He was my aunt's Bik Yah. Someone who had worked too long and known us too well, that he had grown to care about us, and us about him. Care enough that we would accommodate his all-knowing attitude and his quirky acts. In short, he was part of our extended family.

It was tragic and suddened. Two motorcycle riders did thoughtless acts. Double-lane crossing on his part, a fast and careless riding on another. They performed brain operation twice on him to reduce the blood cloth, but it was too late and too little. My aunt couldn't hold the tears, her eyes were swollen for days.

We all visited him at the hospital. He was already in a deep comma. They placed him in a ward of people who were just waiting for their time to exit the stage. 'At this point, there is nothing else that we can do. We hope you, family members and friends, can accompany the patient in his last moment', the doctor said. There were some painful moaning in the room, some crying, but mainly just blank hopeless stares. At one moment, there was quietness in the room before it was broken with the laughs of the young staff interns. Apparently someone just delivered one funny joke. I felt suffocated. I hate hospital.

After 5 days of comma, Pak San left all of us. 'At least he didn't feel any pain', we tried to cheer each other up. He was buried the next day, and life goes on for the rest of us.

I received an SMS a few days after, 'Thanks for the mangoes. They are very sweet. I'm eating them now while sobbing a bit remembering Pak San, hiks ...'.

My aunt is quite the jokester, and the visual of my aunt crying while eating mangoes made my mother and I smiled and saddened both at the same time.

Rest in peace, Pak San, and thank you for everything.

Foundation

Me: Wow, JK and Wiranto don't look good in this poster. They look abnormally dark.

Mom: Yeah, you're right. Most probably color profiling problem during the printing process.

Me: And not to mention a bad Photoshop work.

Mom: They seem to have some sort of brick-ish red blush applied to them.

Me: I can't believe they approve to have these posters planted across the city, and worse, the whole nation!

Mom: Compare it with the SBY and Boediono poster over there.

Me: Great smiles with pleasing light brown skin color.

Mom: I think they apply some foundation before they have their photos taken.

Me: Maybe that's the key to win the election.

Mom: What?

Me: Foundation.

Mom: I hope so.


My mom rocks!

E!

Mom: So, are you sure we're going to make it?

Me: Mother, we're 3 minutes away from the gas station. I'm 100% sure we'll make it.

Mom: I've never been in this situation before. The needle is pointing at E! You know what it means? The gas tank is empty!

Me: Relax mother, the red light warning hasn't blinked at all. I've been in a situation where the red light blinked probably 3 or more times before I managed to fill the gas.

Mom: What? You waited until the red light blinked 3 times? Wouldn't the car die after 3 blinks? I really can't understand you and your sisters. Always wait to do stuff until the last minute!

Me: Mother, you should be happy that I've been in this kind of situation. You know, it is often in this kind of situation that I remember God and regain my faith.

Mom: Haha, very funny. Seriously though, I never could do stuff at the last minute, I will be too worried about it, it will consume all my thoughts, and I will end up doing it at once so I could move on to do better things.

Me: But mother, don't you see, it's all your fault.

Mom: What? How could it be my fault?

Me: You know the saying ... the fruits don't fall far from the tree. And with the 100% rate of this laziness trait appearing at your daughters, it is obvious that the root of the problem is in the parents.

Mom: But, I'm exactly the opposite of you and your sisters!

Me: Well, it's father's fault then. And assuming that it's not genetic, you two were the one who raised us up during our formative years. So, genetically or environmentally, the blame is still on you, my dear mother.

Mom: Sigh ...

And here's one reason why I don't think I'm ready for motherhood, ... the fruits don't fall far from the tree!

McFlurry

SMS exchange I had with Yun last night ...

Yun: Say, do you have a pregnant cousin? I swear I saw someone that looked exactly like you but pregnant.

Me: Well, to be honest, I sometime tape a pillow on my stomach and go and eat as much junk food as I want. It makes me feel protected from the judging eyes.

Me: Last time I did this was when I wanted some McFlurry. I had the Coffee Crunch McFlurry, but it was disappointingly not good, so I finished it on the spot, and ordered the classic Oreo McFlurry. Hmm, gotta love some McFlurry.

Me: Btw, did you see the preggie me with a guy or not? Cause I usually go solo on my mission, and also the obvious fact that I don't have a boyfriend ...

Me: And to answer your question, no, there is no preggie cousin that I know of.

an hour later ...

Yun: Are you high on McFlurry?

*end of SMS exchange*

There was no reply from me since I was already asleep by that time, by 9:12pm according to the sms log. Sometimes, I do get why I don't have many friends.

Rants we have plenty!

A twenty something story high building, only 2 out of 4 working elevators, the lady was not happy.

Oh my God, how long do we have to wait!

This is ridiculous! Ridiculous!

Great, great, one elevator finally is here but it fills up to the max at once. Us three can't get in! This is absurd! Absurd!

While performing her passionate monologue to the reluctant audience, she managed to get an eye contact with the unlucky building officer and decided that inserting a dialogue would be the perfect variation needed for her play.

Unhappy Lady: Hey officer, why aren't the 2 elevators working? This is unacceptable! Unacceptable!

Hapless Officer: I'm really sorry mam, the two elevators stopped working this morning, we're trying to fix them asap. My apology for the inconvenience.

Unhappy Lady: Inconvenience! You bet this is an inconvenience! *grumble, babble, mumble*

OK, I was wrong, the officer wasn't that hapless afterall since he managed to exit the stage safely not long after. Us, however, had to hear her further whining and moaning for another good 5 minutes or so. But, finally, thank goodness, the other elevator arrived ...

At last! At last! But, my oh my, how horrendous! This is not a regular elevator. This is a freight elevator! And an ugly one at that!

Yuck! I can smell the smoke in here! Disgusting! Disgusting!

The lady seemed to enjoy repeating her adjectives. I told myself to be patient since it would be over soon, but I never thought that soon was 5 seconds later ...

Hey, this is our floor. Let's go! Come on, let's go! Quick, quick! , she informed the supporting casts of obeying husband and son.

The closing of the elevator door was the closing of the curtain of her play and with that I sighed a sigh of relief. But what a quick ride it was for her. I checked what floor we were at and I was in disbelief. Ground floor? She stopped at the Ground floor? We were at the Lower Ground floor, and she only needed to go to the Ground floor? That's one freaking floor away! Oh my goodness lady, you could have burned less calorie by taking the stairs! Instead you spent a gazillion calories spewing all kinds of complaints and forced us to be the audience of your soapbox rants!

Unbelievable! Just unbelievable!

Women are impossible

It's quite impossible to understand women, heck, not even ourselves are up to the task. So, props to Woody for the relentless effort to try to understand us, or some might say, to resist being dumped :)

One of my favorite Woody skit ever!