I Am Not Pak Jafar

So apparently my mobile phone is using a recycled number that used to belong to one "Pak Jafar". How do I know this? Because I keep getting calls from people asking for Pak Jafar. This Pak Jafar ah.. I tell you. He must be either one damn champion philanthropist or some loan shark lor. Everyone asking him for money. Got one say the daughter gonna go to school need money lah... another one say the mother gonna die need money lah... And the best thing about these fucking idiots is, they are incapable of understanding that I am not Pak Jafar. Fucking idiots. Here's a typical conversation (and this is all translated from the original Indonesian by the way):

Caller Number 1: Hello Pak Jafar.. How's it going?

Me: Sorry this is the wrong number. There is no Pak Jafar here.

Caller Number 1: Huh?

Me: I am not Pak Jafar.

Caller Number 1: Uhh.. Why?

Me: I don't know. Maybe he cancelled his number.

Caller Number 1: Can I speak to Pak Jafar?

I hang up.

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This is only a typical call. These idiots are incapable of understanding what I am saying. I'm sure it can't be my Indonesian because, seriously, how many wrong ways are there to say "wrong number" anyway? No. I think people are just stupid. My theory is that their brains are like 286 computers. So before they make the call, they already hard wire into their brains that they are going to talk to Pak Jafar. So that they can free up as much processing power to use on their conversation with Pak Jafar (cos there's not all that much to use anyway). So when I turn out to be NOT Pak Jafar, their tiny 286 processors cannot handle this unprecedented situation ("I called Pak Jafar... but the person who answer is NOT Pak Jafar?... Terminal error... Not within system parameters"). So they become like the more old fashioned car assembly robots when there is no car in place. The computer just plays out the algorithm anyway and the robot continues to bolt on doors to a non-existent car frame. Or continues to spray the paint into empty space. You get the picture. Pak Jafar's friends are no brainiacs.

Here's another illustrative example. I have, to the best of my abilities, tried to reproduce this conversation exactly the way it was without embellishments. Notice how Caller Number 2's conversation does not correspond in any way to my responses:

Caller Number 2: Eeeehhhhh.. helloooo Pak Jafar!! How's it going!!??

Me: Sorry wrong number. There is no Pak Jafar here.

Caller Number 2: Huh?

Me: You got the wrong number.

Caller Number 2: Ah? (286 processor working overtime now.) Ooooh ya.. How's it going Pak Jafar? This is Jusuf.

Me: You got the wrong number. I don't think Pak Jafar uses this number anymore.

Caller Number 2: Oooh.. ya ya.. (long pause)... So how's everything? I'm in Jakarta now Pak.

Me: Fuck you mother cheebye! (in English/Hokkien)

I hang up. His 286 is obviously incompatible with my Quad Core processor.

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Then there are those who understand what's going on but insist on finding out the truth about Pak Jafar:

Caller Number 3: Hello Pak Jafar. How are you?

Me: I'm afraid you got the wrong number. I don't think Pak Jafar uses this number anymore.

Caller Number 3: Oh? Then who's this?

I tell him who I am and what organisation I work for.

Caller Number 3: Where is this?

Me (feeling the need to take a piss, I get up to walk to the toilet): This is in central Jakarta. Does it really matter?

Caller Number 3 (sounding more aggressive and suspicious): How come you have Pak Jafar's phone?

Me: I don't. I bought this phone new. I think the number must have been recycled.

Caller Number 3: Why are you using Pak Jafar's phone number? Who are you?

Again I tell him who I am and explain why I have Pak Jafar's phone number. By this time I have reached the toilet and I really need to stop talking to this idiot and pee.

Caller Number 3: Where are you now?! Why do you have Pak Jafar's phone?

Me: I'm in the toilet, on the XX floor, in XXX building, on XXX road.

Caller number 3: Tell me who you are.

Me: (Unzipping my trousers) I told you already. (I tell him who I am again).

Caller Number 3: Why do you have Pak Jafar's phone?!

Me: Well as I said just a minute ago, I am using a brand new SIM card on a brand new phone. I don't know Pak Jafar and I certainly did not take his phone. You see these telco companies sometimes find it more economical to re-use old telephone numbers and not come up with new numbers. After all, if they kept coming up with new numbers, telephone numbers would just get longer and longer. So you can see the logic in recycli-

Caller Number 3: Who are you? Why do you have Pak Jafar's phone? Where are you now?

Me: Sorry. Give me a minute. (Place the phone on top of the urinal and turn the phone to speaker mode).

Caller Number 3: Who is this?

Me: *pisssssssssssssss*.......

Caller Number 3: Why do you have Pak Jafar's phone?

Me: *pisssss*...

Caller Number 3: Where are you located now?

Me: *pisss*.... *piss* *piss* *piss* *tinkle* *tinkle*..

Caller Number 3: Who is this?! Wha?

Me: *shakeshakeshakeshakeshake*.. *zip* (pick up the phone). Hello? Hello?

The guy hung up. Don't say I wasn't trying to be helpful. Notice that his 286 processor, faced with an unfamiliar situation, opted to loop his "query identity/query ownership/query location" functions? Interesting how the primitive human mind works isn't it?

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Then there are times when I get damn du lan with these people and just play along with them. This one is on SMS:

SMSer Number 1: "Greetings Pak Jafar. Hope everything is well. I was wondering if you would be able to help me with something. My mother is seriously ill and we need Rp30 million for her medical bills. Would it be possible for you to help out?"

Me: "Yeah sure."

SMSer Number 1: "That's wonderful Pak Jafar. Thank you for your generosity. When can we have the money?"

Me: "Tomorrow."

SMSer Number 1: "Sure Pak Jafar. Where should I meet you?"

Me: "Plaza Semanggi."

SMSer Number 1: "Ok Pak. What time?"

Me: "10am. Come alone."

No response. Half an hour later I get a call. I'm in a bar in Singapore at this time so, not only is there loud raunchy music blarring in the background, the caller is having to pay about two dollars a minute for the overseas call. Even the music is not enough to convince them that I am not Pak Jafar. They call back two times and I explain patiently (a bit more patiently than normal since I don't have to pay the long distance charges). Each time they say "oh.. ok thanks." But they just keep calling back. Only the third time then they stop calling.

Maybe they deserve it? Maybe not. But I still love messing with stupid people.

Steady right?

I Love My Bug Zapper Part II

So remember last time I wrote about my bug zapper? Well I just want to say that I still think its the best damn thing in the world. Give me endless entertainment. Here's me and good ole' Shuangying, smiling for the camera:

With his first racquet endorsement, Pete had truly hit the big time.

So anyway, last night I was watching TV. There was a bumper crop of mosquitos lor. It's like they know they're gonna come and meet their doom but they just... keep... coming. Like Japanese kamikaze like that. So I've gotten quite good at zapping them now. Got a lot of practice. Check it out, I swear on my life that this is from one sitting:

Bug Zapper Trigger Hand No. 2 saluted his worthy adversaries.

Wanna see closer?

Brian's girlfriends were always impressed with his tame pet
mosquitoes who would often do tricks like play dead in formation.

Dun believe they're mosquitoes right? I show you closer some more. Notice my camera's solid macro function:

After a long day of field manouevres, the mosquito
platoon flopped onto their bed and went to sleep.

These mosquitoes ah... can make a lot of formation one. Here's their "Cluster Fuck Stance":

Left out in the open snow, the mosquitoes huddled together for warmth.

And this one I keep for next time my girlfriend's Valentine's Day card:

Brian's mosquitoes could be show-offish sometimes.

So anyway, throught the magic of video, we can now see the Shuangying Multifunction Mosquito Hitting Racket in action. Here's me making sure that the mosquitoes are really, truly dead. No camera tricks. You see the centre of the bug zapper? Halfway through the video got those little spots on them right? Ah those are the mosquitoes la. Then later when I tap the thing on the floor, you can see the dead bodies of the mosquitoes falling out if you look closely. Remember to turn on the sound ah:

Fucking cool right? I love it.

Did You Know?

That the sound that Transformers make when they transform, commonly represented as the onomatopoeia, "chee cha cheh choh choo" (or "choo choh cheh cha chee" if transforming from vehicle to robot mode) begins as an 8 hz pulse repeated five times for 0.7 seconds each repeat whose pitch can be represented by the absolute value of a declining sine wave, with each zero-to-zero arc of the wave representing one of five cycles of the repetition. The actual value of the sine wave can be modified by factor N which is multiplied into the X value but divided into the Y value, which means that although the actual pitch is largely indefinite, in analog terms when the transform pitch is higher the length of each pulse is shorter, and conversely when the pitch is lower the length of each pulse is longer.

Well now you know. Dun say I never tell you.

Marlboro Decepticon Lai Liao!

Last week my work computer got seriously fucked up. Of course the computer guys took two weeks to fix it, leaving me no choice but to buy a very sexy Macbook.

Wah this Macbook I tell you ah... Damn shiok. Can mix music, can play DVD, can take photo. And it looks so good that every time I look at it I get a boner. And best of all, can make home movie. Like this one:

Marlboro Decepticon never did feel comfortable saluting Megatron.

Steady right?

I Employ an "Ass Bartender"

So the other day C told me he saw my driver trying to park my car in the basement car park. The guy tried to reverse into an impossibly small parking lot, and bumped into another car. And then when the parking attendant already told him cannot he still die die wanna try to reverse somemore. C said he drive my car like Daytona like that. Damn bochup. Wah I hear already I damn du lan. Kanina in front of me drive until so careful, so polite call me "Sir", somemore always help me to carry my groceries. Chao cheebye behind my back use my car play bumper car.

The whole day I just don't say anything. See how long he dowan to tell me. So that same night when he fetch me home, I asked him to give me the keys and then I say, "today the car got accident or not?" Kanina only then he start to tell me... actually he wanted to tell me but don't want to disturb me during the day so he wanna wait until I come home then tell me... then say actually he know he hit the other car liao but then he selected the wrong gear so instead of moving forward, he moved back some more.

Kanina lampah understand? The story don't make sense one. I ask you: if you're already in reverse gear, and you wanna select the move forward gear, cannot be you "select wrongly" back the reverse gear right? Fucking bullshit. Chao cheebye. I hate when people bluff me.

So I give him this month and next month's pay and ask him to fuck off. Wah. He die die don't wanna take the money. At first ask me don't fire him la... His father just die la.. Got wife and kids la.. I said I already very good already. Your father die I give you money. You sick I give you money see doctor. Your daughter go school I help you pay school fees. Help her buy school uniform. Cheebye one simple thing like take care of my car properly also cannot do. Wah then he realise no hope liao. So then he try to make me feel quilty. Say he so cham. Father just die, wife got no job, daughter still so young. Say if I don't give him money that means I don't care about him la. Don't care about his family la. Wah lan eh this type of dirty trick he also use. He know that I'm damn soft-hearted one. Not this time dude. I told him fuck off.

So then the next week I go look for driver. Saw two candidates but like not very good leh. Then my security guard say her cousin can drive car. Wah this guy damn standard man. His CV is actually TYPED WITH MICROSOFT WORD one. The other drivers only use pen to write on paper. I see already I damn impressed. Then I saw his experience. Damn champion. You see la:


I zoom in for you to see:


"Ass Bartender"? What's that? Like a specialist bartender who only serves asses at the bar? Or is it like some guy who tends to gay people's asses at the bar? I like this guy man. He make me laugh. Very funny. So I say, "hahahah! I like you! Tomorrow you come to my house and drive me to work!"

So now I got new driver. He's damn scared of me after he heard my story about how I fired the previous guy. Drive the car damn fucking careful. Until don't even dare to overtake people. But who cares? His CV is damn steady.

I'm a Fucking Genius

Did you know that my IQ is 138? And that puts me in the 99.18th percentile?

That means that 99.18% of the population is stupider than me. Albeit the population of the US because the test is American. But still, that means I must be smarter than at least 98% of the whole world (including America). So assuming that the world's population is 6,602,224,175, there are an estimated 6,470,179,691.5 people stupider than me. In fact, there is a good chance that YOU might be stupider than me.

Check it. I never bluff you:



AND, last Saturday I went to karaoke, the karaoke machine scored me "91" when I sing Ji Pa Ban. Scared or not?

People Have Stupid Names

This is what happens if you name yourself after a slang word for a private part and display it to all the world on a huge wedding wreath you sent to your friend because you want to flaunt your wealth.

Wedding guests admired Ramanna and Fanny's elaborate

flower wreath which featured a life-like bust of the Indonesian god

of fertility, Cheehongdhoyono, or One Who Breathes Life Into the Womb.

Showdown!!

RRaaaarr!!!

Bank robber Bob was always particular about putting on his

glasses after his balaclava so that they would not get smudged.

So today D wanna challenge me to go kart race. I say come la! See who scared who. So we go to the go kart place. The 'circuit' is damn small. But its damn pro. Got starting grid, got pit lane, and even got starting lights that go red, amber and then green.

So anyway, first they give us balaclavas. I thought wah lan eh siao, why need to wear balaclavas? So pro meh? Five minutes later I got the answer... We gotta wear this 'protective' clothing which essentially consists of an oversized jacket with the worse possible colour combinations (seriously, its like they went to a tailor and specially asked for kok cloth colours), a plastic helmet to protect your hair from the sun, and blue durian gloves. The balaclava is actually used to prevent the leftover dandruff from the previous person using the helmet from touching your head. Also, it is used for shielding your nose from the smelly sweat smell from the jacket, which I can safely say has never ever been washed. Anyway, this is what you look like after wearing all the stuff:

Red With Green Trim Ranger and Light Blue With Yellow Trim

Ranger didn't quite make it through Power Ranger School.

So anyway, I cannot lose to D cos she will say I got no lan jiao. So I get into the kart, and the uncle says right pedal is gas, left paddle is brake, and then we're off... And its fucking fun lor. Like I feel like Initial-D like that. Slide my kart into the turn, and then power out of the curve. When you do it right you really feel damn steady. Only the track is so small you go around about 20 times in ten minutes. Until you get dizzy.

But all those nights spent watching MotoGP pay off and I lap D five times. After that she admit that I am champion but next time she'll get me. I say whatever. I still win today. With style somemore:

I really think I have the race instincts lor. Maybe if I go go karting more often, someone will spot me.

Woohoo!!

Eh check it out. I got my first hate mail. Ok la not hate MAIL. More like "hate comment" but at least its still hateful. Steady right?

I Really Really Really Really Really Really Really Really Want to Watch This Movie

Ok this is like my ideal movie. It's called..... drumroll... drrrrrrRRrrRrrRrRrrrrrrRrr "PLANET TERRORRRR"!!!

"Come come ah boy, no need to scared. Auntie

got only one leg, give you half price."

It's fucking awesome. Everything I want to see in a movie. Zombies, police, army, guns, sexy girls, Osama Bin Laden, lesbians, sex, gogo dancers, zombies, sexy girls, etc.

Directed by Robert Rodriguez (all those Eurasian people all very arty one), its bundled together with Quentin Tarantino's Death Proof in a double feature called Grindhouse.

Aiyah. anyway, the story goes something like this:

There is this demented army lieutenent dude who is doing some bad evil scheme thing with some scientist when BAM! Some cock up makes this super jiat lat deadly chemical get released which makes people become crazed zombies who want to eat human flesh. So the police and army come in with their big guns and all but cannot stop the zombies.

So they all hide out in some place where for some reason some lesbians will make out but there's this super hot gogo dancer girl called Cherry whose leg gets bitten off by one of the zombies. So she limps all the way back to the safehouse where some doctor attaches a table leg to her leg stump.

Then there's the intermission where the demented lieutenant dude explains how this whole thing came about because he killed Osama Bin Laden but Osama infected them with the zombie chemical. Whatever. End of intermission.

Then the best part: Cherry decides that her table leg leg is too kok already so she replaces it with an M4A1 CARBINE ASSAULT RIFLE WITH M203 GRENADE LAUNCHER!! Then when the zombies come, she just get down on all fours but she lift up her leg like a dog gonna pang jio like that and LET THE MOTHERFUCKERS EAT HOT LEAD AND HIGH EXPLOSIVE M203 GRENADE ROUNDS!!! DRRrrRrrRrrRRRR!!! BOM BOM BOM BOM!!! DIE MOTHERFUCKING UGLY ZOMBIES!!! CHIBABOOOM!!!

Check it out, I never bluff you:

Armalite's latest incarnation of the M4 Carbine, blow up doll butt stock version.

Anyway, I'm totally gonna go buy the pirated DVD this weekend.

Wa lao. KOK.

Orrrhhh. I didn't know it's actually Zoe Tay. Paiseh paiseh.

But anyway, check out this big time discussion. Wa piang. Some extracts...

There's analytical:

"while it is true that any publicity is good publicity, i believe this has negative effect on the pill company.

1. the stir-up gotten pretty big, but how many actually remember the pill company name? a case of win the battle but lost the war

2. the after-effect. can you imagine a male colleague said this to his female colleague after seeing her buying the pills "so you swallow as well?" :P

Posted by: kp, Aug 30, 2006 11:56:16 AM"

And then there's wait-ten-years-to-use-three-big-words-in-one-sentence:

"Double entendres are good for amusing people while getting past the ignorant hoi polloi (who complain about FCUK).

Posted by: Agagooga, Aug 23, 2006 6:48:55 PM"

And of course, the voice of common sense:

"Come on you guys! I swallow is I swallow and here it is Imedeen tablets she is taking! What should she say? I eat??!

Posted by: js, Aug 25, 2006 5:23:01 PM"

Words fail me. Just go through one by one. It is a veritable buffet of kok.

Cum and Nourish Your Face

Johnson the other day show me this advertisement:


I see already straightaway steam. Somemore the girl's comment is like damn xio lor. But then Johnson explain to me that this is called "pun". "Pun" is something like I say this thing make you horny but actually its refering to something else which is not about horny things. We all Chinese say "dio dua" or like the bayees say "kena play backside". Like go out dating and the girl ask you whether want to come inside but then actually go inside is only to "talk" only. So in this case, the girl is not saying that she has good skin cos she swallow people's siao (although it is true that siao makes you have good skin). She is only saying that she eat the Imedeen then her skin become good.

This Johnson very clever. This kind of big word he also know. Anyway, I don't really understand. So I try to show Johnson my own "pun":

But he say wrong leh.

Kancheong Troublesome Hold Up Things Man

You know those people who just have to be troublesome and hold up things wherever they are? Like when they order chicken rice they must ask for boneless chicken drumstick and wings without skin? Or like if they are in a buffet, they must find and find and find the chicken drumstick while everyone is waiting behind them? Or like at Starbucks they must order the Ice-Blended Latte but must have 2% skim milk and no whipped cream but half the normal amount of syrup but put more ice and can they set the blender to slow so that the ice is crushed more evenly?

Enter Kancheong Troublesome Hold Up Things Man.

For some reason my flight was delayed for four hours. So everybody already damn sian diao already. So? Just check in first and then go to the airport bar or something lah! Noooo.. Kancheong Troublesome Hold Up Things Man must go and check with the airport counter staff what is the matter with the plane. Must ask them how much longer it will take. Then he must bring like ten thousand luggages. And must ask the counter staff whether they can increase his luggage limit. And then his passport must have some problem that the counter staff must ask their supervisors one. And then he has to check something in his bag so he gotta stand there and open his bag and let people see his underwear.

So he was like at the counter forever. And all the while I was juuust two people behind him in the queue. And behind me these two Indonesian women with like a heap of luggage on their trolley, everytime I even take a half step forward they must push the trolley riiiight until it is almost touching my foot. Like damn scared got people will cut queue. Wah lan eh dun say people ah. I think even if someone's lan jiao wanna cut the queue, he also must make sure he senang diri first before he try to get between the trolley and me lor.

So anyway, Kancheong Troublesome Hold Up Things Man finally left the counter. Then at the departure gate, he must go and join the queue first. Like if not skarli he cannot get on the plane.

And then on the plane, after the plane has taken off and the fasten seatbelt sign is off, Kancheong Troublesome Hold Up Things Man must go and take his laptop from his bag in the cabin compartment. For what? Because he want to watch DVD on his laptop. Like. Hello? Champion? From Singapore to Jakarta is like 1 hour 40 minutes lor. Take off and landing already take half an hour altogether. Eat dinner in the plane already take about another half hour. You see what movie?! See 40 minutes of the movie also shiok ah? Then of course when the plane was about to land, he gotta put back the laptop into his bag.

Then he must ask the stewardess for an extra copy of the customs form when they give out the forms in the cabin lor.

Anyway, this is Kancheong Troublesome Hold Up Things Man:

Think he was looking for people to trouble to look out for his luggage on the conveyor while he go to the toilet.

Today Is My Book-In Day

After go home for one week, tonight have to book in again. Wah lan eh damn low morale ah.

Let's review what I did the last week. In chronological order:

1. Got wasted at St James and took a picture of a fucking chio 2007 Yamaha YZF-R6:

Optimus approved of Motorcycle Autobot's efforts at being truly a 'robot in disguise' by carrying around a mannequin with him everytime he transformed into vehicle mode

2. Got wasted with some bayees in a bayee pub and proceeded to throw up on my shoes.

3. Got wasted at Robertson and took a picture with a fucking fierce Honda Civic:

"Must... Deliver.... Tao.. Huay..."

3. Got wasted with some bayees in a bayee pub and proceeded to throw up. The next day. At 4pm.

4. Got wasted at Robertson and searched very hard for a motorcycle to take photos with.

5. Got wasted in a gay bar but failed to get picked up because I was "too manly".

6. Got.

7. Wasted.

I Am Chumpion

This week got someone compliment me. Say I am no "two pump chump". So I went to check what it means:

two pump chump
t-wo-p-ump-ch-ump [tōō pŭhmp chŭhmp] n.

A person incapable of lasting for more than two pelvic thrusts during copulation, i.e. Crunk. Sploitch.

"Francis is a two pump chump... the only time he can keep it up for longer than 45 seconds is flogging his dog in the bath."

Wah lao eh. This one still need to say meh? I am HUNDRED PUMP CHUMP AH!

Zachary Disease

Apparently everyone's heard this one except me:

There was this woman who was 40 years old but had never had a boyfriend and never been laid. So her friend told her, "you go and see this Dr Sumitomo. He very good. If anyone can help you, its Dr Sumitomo."

So the woman went to see Dr Sumitomo. Then Dr Sumitomo say, "hmm... this probrem very strange. But maybe we can try to discover source of probrem. Prease, take off all crothes..."

So the woman takes off all her clothes.

"Now, prease to get on all fours, rike dog.." says Dr Sumitomo. Now the woman thinks this is a bit of a strange method of diagnosis but she thinks, anything is better than not being laid for the rest of my life, so she shrugs her shoulders and gets on her hands and knees.

Dr Sumitomo continues, "now, prease to craw away from Dr Sumitomo, reery reery fass, just rike dog..." So the woman, thinking that they're making some headway here, starts to crawl away from Dr Sumitomo.

"Now, prease to turn around and craw reery reery fass towards Dr Sumitomo, just same as rike dog.." The woman obediently does so.

So now Dr Sumitomo says he's finished his examination and tells the woman that she can put on her clothes.

When the lady comes out of the dressing room, Dr Sumitomo sits her down in front of his table. He looks solemn, "I'm fraid you have incuraber condition. Worse case I ever see, that why you not haf sex or date."

The lady is quite sad but at least she can take comfort in the fact that her inability to get a guy is through no fault of her own. So she asks Dr Sumitomo what her incurable condtion is.

"What you have, is bad case of Zachary Disease," Dr Sumitomo says gently.

So naturally, the lady asks Dr Sumitomo what Zachary Disease is.

Dr Sumitomo replies solemnly, "my dear lady, Zachary Disease is when woman have face, that rook Zachary rike her ass.."

Fucking Who?

The other day one of my friends was trying to tell my other friend about my blog. It didn't help that both were slightly tipsy and we were in a crowded restaurant.

Friend 1: This guy's got a blog. You should check it out.

Friend 2: Yeah? What's it called?

Friend 1: FuckingBS.

Friend 2: Oookay.. But that is only to be expected from him lor. What's the name of the blog?

Friend 1: It's FuckingBS.

Friend 2: Yes yes yes. You said that already. But I still want to go see how BS it is lor.

Friend 1: No no. I mean it's CALLED FuckingBS. Like Fuckingbs.blogspot.com

Friend 2: His blog's spot is fucking BS? Now I don't know what you are talking about anymore lor.

Friend 1: No no no no no.. I mean like double-U double-U double-U dot Fucking BS dot Blogspot dot Com lah!

Friend 2: Orhh... (to me) Aiyoh why you go and call your blog like that?

By which time I was already too tired watching the exchange to answer so we just got another round. I love my friends.

Wow.

This, led to this.

Fucking funny.

I Buy A Gold Watch

So I bought this gold Casio Illuminator digital watch. It's like the coolest thing in the world. Everything about it is cool. From the "Illuminator" word engraved on the watch face to the words "ten year battery" printed on the front to the greenish glow that lights up the LEDs when you press a button on the side.

Check it:

Although polio had wasted away most of Johnson's arm, he valiantly insisted on wearing his gold watch, which he could now barely keep on.

The shopkeeper obviously didn't understand what a gem of coolness he had just sold me:

Me: How much is that watch there?

Shopkeeper: Which one? The gold one?

Me: Yeah that one. How much?

Shopkeeper (sniggering to himself): Uh.. $45.

My friend (who doubts my judgement in coolness): Any discount?

Shopkeeper: Yeah. I'll let you have it for $40.

Me: Ok. Can I have a new one in the box please?

Shopkeeper: We don't have any new ones. This is the only one we have in stock. Not many people buy this model (he could have meant "no one has ever bought this watch").

Me: Oh.. ok.

Shopkeeper: (Doubtfully) Anyway, gold digital watches are in fashion now huh?

Me: Uh. Yeah.

Shopkeeper: Anyway, if too many people buy this watch, its not going to stand out lah. So best if I just keep one in stock so that not too many people will buy it.

Me: (Wondering why he is justifying the sale of the watch to me almost as if it is a cardinal sin). Uh. Yeah.

Shopkeeper: (Watching with a sort of morbid fascination as I put on the watch.) You really not paiseh one hor?

Me: Yeah. Not very often lah.

Shopkeeper: Er. Right. Anyway, er. Thanks for buying the watch...

Me: (Brandishing my new gold watch). Yup.

All the while he had this look of bemused disbelief that someone was actually buying this watch. Well I'm glad I made somebody's day. Anyway, I think it's damn fucking uber cool:

As I mentioned before, for me, style is cannot compromise one.

Developing the Puxis of Our Nation

So the other day I attended this seminar on good practices in town planning. How appropriate to have it in Jakarta, the zenith of urban improvisation. Anyway, there was this flaky Indonesian urban planning academic who was asked to talk.

So the guy picks Shanghai as his example. As you would know, Shanghai is separated into two main financial districts, Pudong (浦东), meaning literally "East of the Huangpu River" and Puxi (浦西), or "West of the Huangpu River". As it happened, ten years ago, Pudong had been the undeveloped area of Shanghai, while Puxi was its main financial district. However, with the Shanghai administration's policy of systematic urban planning, Pudong was speedily developed into the new urban centre of Shanghai. Whereas, Puxi remained as it is, badly neglected and a shadow of its former eminence. So, according to Hapless Rambling Indonesian Academic, it was important to make sure that old city centres in Indonesia do not suffer the fate of Puxi and that the development of urban centres in Indonesia was carried out concurrently and proportionately.

Which is all very somber stuff. Except that this guy, having chosen a Chinese city as an example, forgot that the tonal values of Chinese words matter in interpreting their meaning. In fact, there is a whole system of romanised Chinese known as Hanyu Pinyin. So. Puxi, is actually pronounced as Pú Xī. In another words (my former Chinese teacher's to be exact), "Pú is lumber two sound. Xī is lumber one sound. Unnerstand or not you?"

For people who don't read Hanyu Pinyin, it's pronounced as "Poo Sea", not "Pucksy".

So anyway it was obviously too much for this guy's brain to process a whole new system of pronunciation for just one presentation and he opted for the monotone pronunciation of Puxi. And this was delivered in the over-dramatic, breathy voice that some Indonesians feel obligated to use when they are speaking to a crowd. Some excerpts:

"There are many Puxis all over Indonesia."

"Even as we compare Puxis, the Chinese Puxi has been better maintained than our Indonesian Puxis."

"If we don't do something about Jakata soon, it will become one Big Puxi."

"As we develop the Pudongs of our great nation, we must not neglect the development of our Puxiiiis!"

"Ten years ago, Puxi in Shanghai was beautiful. But recently when I went there again, Puxi was in such a state of neglect. The smell was terrible..."

I laughed so hard I almost died.