Georgetterox

What will you sell of yourself if you wanna win something? Your pretty face?

Your beautiful voice? Your skill in blowing a saxophone?

Or.. your family name which sound like a celebrity?

We’ve seen now that our tv station is full of contests masked of reality shows.

There are a bunch of chicks who can’t sing, show on TV, and the winner is determined to the audience’s vote.

For making the sense of reality show, they perform the backstage scenes, so the audience can see the real side of the contestants. Which those really suck.

Now I’d like to write some tips how to win a reality show contest.

The key is only one: Grab the audience’s sympathy.

·         Praise the audiences

, tell them that they pretty and cute.

·         If you’re pretty, you must be the winner. But if you’re disabled, that’s better.

Coz the audiences feel pity more to a blind or a dwarf contestant with pretty voice than a beautiful contestant with ugly voice.

·         Don’t be ashame to mention that you grow on the streets

.

If necessary, for the backstage scene, try to hire someone to make the scene where she should search the mites on your head.

Remember our country’s law, poor and abused children are took care by the government.

·         If your dad’s dead, just mention it. Pak Haji says that orphans are always loved.

·         It’s better if you mention that you come from a broken home family and your dad has abused you

. And now your dad’s already had an accident and he’s in ICU right now.

This effort really works for getting much vote from the audience. It’s proved already!

·         But if you’re bored of abusing your dad’s name, just use your grandma.

Tell the audience, that when you were eliminated yesterday, your grandma was down to see her favorite granddaughter lost the game, then she got shocked, and your aunt had to bring her to the hospital.

·         Don’t forget to cry on the stage!

The audience will feel pity about you, right away.

But if you still have some pride, just don’t use any of the horrible efforts that I’ve taught above.

“Trust me, pain is for eliminated, not for sale. Be though, fellas!”

Once I asked God, why does He just create twenty-four hours in a day and seven days in a week?

Coz I have to examine the patients, cook for my Mom and Dad’s lunch, shop a new dress for my colleague’s wedding, have creambath, watch the OC marathon, and write for the next blog. How could I work all of the things out?

My colleague, Rhayn, 25, is being furious to her sista.

Her sista must write a paper for a general basic subject.

You get it, don’t you, why do all of us hate writing paper the most for this kinda subject?

Where should we find the references? No textbook of it.

This paper must be collected in the next three days, though the lector has commanded her sista from seven days ago.

And her sista hasn’t begun a word, coz he hasn’t studied for the next week’s final exam of 20 credit units. Beside she doesn’t know at all where to start to write this stupid paper.

Rhayn said she should start from writing the writer’s prologue, and not need to start the first chapter first. Coz every reader’s favorite chapter, must be the writer’s prologue, mustn’t it?

(Well, not me. I always start with the dedication page.

Ya know, the special page dedicated for Mom, Dad, sibling, and ex-boyfriends?)

Maybe afraid of shame if her sista fails and ruins Rhayn’s reputation as a perfectionist workaholic, finally Rhayn decides to take-over the crazy paper.

Though she almost forgets how to write a paper, coz she’s been graduated years ago.

She’s still upset coz her sista has already sighed (yes, sighed, not yelled!) for help when she’s already rushed.

If only she’d asked earlier, when she realized that she’d never have time to think of this stupid paper.

“What da hell does she expect, down on her knees and wish that God’s rescue will fall from the heaven?!”

Yes, coz it ain’t the first time that our ass is rushed and our neck is the guarantee.

Remember when it was almost Eid Mubarak., I gotta prepare the yearbook, I gotta write the reports of the over-often-miscarriaged patients, I gotta register for judisium, and I gotta recover my heart after I‘d just already caught my boyfriend in the act, at his rotten affair.

So little time, so much to do. It sound’s Ollie’s song.

Even probably, next time we’ll deal with this kinda trouble again.

Someday a G5 female will come to our ER for labor, and at once there come three accident victims in unconsciousness and we must help all of them in a same time. What da hell are you gonna do?

Rhayn says, “Just rescue one, intubate him and bag him.

Next patient, call the nurse, tell her to start the resuscitation.

And ask another nurse to call another hospital for refer the third patient.

Don’t worry about the labor mother.”

I complaint: “That’s it?”

Rhayn says, “My sista can’t study and write the paper at once. She still needs someone else’s help.

Same like me, I take care the ER alone and I can’t help four people alone at once, so I need someone else to help.

That’s what we call effort, at least one problem is solved, better than everything ruined, isn’t it?

About somebody’s dead, somebody else got disabled, what else are we gonna do?

We just have one head, two hands, and two legs, could’ve we helped all of them?

And who told the woman to get pregnant for five times?

Her cervix is thin like a tollroad, that’s her fault.

That kinda mother, she just needs a cough for delivering the baby away..!”

This title doesn’t sound have its synonym, but it’s exact that I have no idea for another title, coz I really mean it about artistifying the scientists.

The free translation for Indonesian is meng-“artis”-kan para ilmuwan, it means approximately making the scientists become an artist, a term that we won’t find at JS Badudu dictionary or any others.

Coz there’s never an history of making somebody becoming a talent, especially making a scientist becoming an artist.

After watching Indonesian Idol, I was down coz Priska Paramita  was kicked out of the contest due to less SMS.

I don’t pick Priska as my favorite one, coz I know that there are still other Idol contestants whose voices better than Priska (Kelly Clarkson, for example ;P..)

But I think Priska’s voice ain’t really false, at least not for bad for singing in the wedding (or at least in the shower).

The problem is, Priska, my colleague, failed to prove that a doctor, or at least a student of medicine, still able to be a talent.

If we’d like to do some little research, there’s no history of a doctor who also succeed of being a singer, or at least a talent in show business.

If Fadli  never mentioned his medical title as his commercial name, then almost nobody knew that this man, who almost always gets a role as a cruel daddy who loves torturing his kids-in-law, was a dentist.

Lifestyle magazines imaged Sonia Wibisono  more often as a fashionista than a general practitioner.

Lula Kamal  has ever won a beauty pageant, is busy of being a commercial star, but after being spokeperson for several health workshops, she never practices of curing real patients.

Still better is Teuku Adi Fitrian a.k Tompi,  whose both albums got lots of paybacks, but he still remains a resident of plastic surgery at Salemba. Other than them, no talents who becomes a doctor.

“So a doctor can’t be a talent, and a talent can’t become a doctor?”

Because, it’s impossible for us to hear a talent say this, “Zooster, tell the patient, I can’t examine his bowel, coz I have a scene to take right now!”,

or even worse, “Somebody please tell my manager that the concert is delayed coz I’ve got an emergency surgery to do!”

If Priska didn’t join an Idol audition at Makassar, maybe the common people will never know that a doctor can be a singer. And Priska ain’t the only doctor who can be a talent.

The professors at Malang have been collaborating in a band named Professor Band, and one of them, a professor of fertility, is a great violist.

There are lots of my colleagues who prior of being doctors, have wandered around Kosambi as ballerinas. And another of my colleague, a 25-year-old intern, works at night-clubs as a DJ.

I still bury my dream of playing piano at the Erwin Gutawa’s orchestra.

The producers never see us, and our art creation can only be enjoyed by the guests who come to brevets, the cultural nights of specialists conferences, or just a gala dinner of a launching for new medicines, not by the common people.

Priska can’t be an artist, probably she better becomes a doctor.

And it’s true that a doctor, like the other scientists, can’t be a talent.

Pregnant is supposed to be fun if only we don’t have to bother about what name we’ll give to our baby. Concern about baby’s name could be a mission impossible.

Are we gonna name it Western so it sounds cool, or are we gonna name it locally so it sounds polite?

Are we gonna name it long so it sounds great, or are we gonna name it short so it’s easy to remember?

Find references of names as much as it possible.

Luth, my friend, was 24, had been in this “difficult time.”

His wife was going to have their babies next two months, and they still haven’t found a name for their baby.

Finally Luth borrowed our senior’s yearbook and copied our seniors’ names that he liked, coz he was gonna use one of them for his baby. Did it work? Of course not.

Because his list becomes four pieces of HVS, front and back!

And don’t ever name it just a word.

This is a true story, as my friend, just call him Hassan, was 23, was honoured for a master scholarship at Michigan. His leaving was almost cancelled because the bureau of immigration refused his passport form.

The problem was, he didn’t fill his family name in the form.

“I don’t have a family name,” said Hassan worried. “My name’s Hassan. That’s it.”

According to the international law, we must write our family name in our passport, suited to the name in our birth certificate.

But Hassan’s father never wrote his name behind Hassan’s name on his birth certificate., so Hassan’s name is just Hassan until now, that’s all.

And it was getting worse because the airport staffs at States were little paranoid to the immigrants who had Moslem-like names.

Just don’t get trapped in a land that full of stupid people, where they misunderstood and thought that we brought a bomb just when we mentioned our name. See?

Give our baby a neutral name.

“I’ve got a lot of trouble just because of my name,” said Hassan, whom I don’t know how finally was allowed to enter the States and now still wandered around free in the land.

Don’t let our baby regrets the name that we have given.

My friend’s name is Oktari, coz she was born in October.

When she was a little girl, her momma wanna call her Tari so she sounds sweet.

But her pappa calls her Oki coz he wants her to sound cute.

I don’t know whether practically my friend was really cute or not when she was a kid, but absolutely she grows up and becomes more popular with nickname of Oki.

But now Oki starts to get uncomfy about her own nickname, and because she wanna sound more feminine, she begins to popularize her name with the nickname of Tari.

So everytime she sees someone new, she always says, “Meet me, my name’s Tari.”

But her plan always fails everytime I pass by and I call her by screaming, “Okiii! What da hell are you doing theeere? Come here with meee.. we’re having siomaayyy!”

So the new people always fail to call her Oki.

Oops..not always fail, by the way.

Coz somebody has called up to her house and asked, “Hello? May I speak to Tari, please?”

Too bad that the phone was picked up by her maid, who didn’t notice about her boss’ full name, so she replied, “I’m sorry! No people name Tari over here!”

Just don’t ask me what we should name a baby.

I even get confused when I’m asked what I will name mine.

I always answer, “If I have a boy, I’ll name him after his Dad.”

So if his father is Dao Ming She,  then I’ll name him A She.

But if his father’s name is Brad Pitt,  then I’ll name him Apit. Whatever.

I mean it coz I want his father pays responsibility, so each time he calls our son’s name, then it’ll sound like calling his own name.

So he’ll have an high sense of belonging to our son, and he’s gonna take care of him for the rest of his life. The life of our son, I mean, not the life of my son’s Dad.

Oh, I mean the both of them. OK, it’s getting complicated.

“But if I have a daughter, I’ll name her after my name,” I said proudly.

“Oh, no!” said my friend.

“It’s been complicated there’s one Vicky in the world, are you still gonna create another Vicky?!

What will the world say..?”