Georgetterox

I don’t know what makes me keep memorizing this guy.

As I saw his face firstly, I was still 16, drunk, broken-hearted, and crazy about movies.

For me, he was just a curly bastard boy  who loved smoking and burning another student’s French book.

But for pleasuring the other boy, he didn’t mind to embarrass himself, by singing at the top of the tribune in a stadium under the brass of marching band whose major he’d bribed in dollars.

The song was so eighties, Barry Manilow’s Can’t Take My Eyes Off You, and he reconstructed the tribune became a Broadway stage,  completed with the scene when he made himself pursued by the school securities.

The girl that he’s got the crushed on, was embraced to hear him singing that fals.

Embraced much to make her brave enough to show her breast to a teacher for releasing this boy from the detention coz he’s made a chaos at the stadium.

That moment, I thought, in the same situation, I might gonna do the same thing.

Releasing the cute bastard from the detention, I mean, not showing my breast by the way.

That’s the character of Patrick Verona in 10 Things I Hate About You, which has amazed me enough to drive me searching in every video shop in town to get the VCD (that year, DVD hasn’t set the trend like today).

10 Things I Hate About You remains my favorite movie until now, and Patrck Verona is my favorite character, the typical of bad guy that remains my wish to hook up with.

And last week, it had been nine years since I fell in love with Patrick Verona.

My sister mourned to tell me, that the actor who played it, wasn’t around anymore.

Heath Ledger died in a very-still-young age, 28, naked on her bed.

They suspected that Ledger doped of Xanax. Xanax is a sedative drug that often promoted by a pharmaceutical company to be written by me in prescriptions for my patients.

A step that I never do coz I really hate advising sedatives for my patients.

I don’t know whom I grief for this week, Patrick Verona, or Heath Ledger?

The characters are so adhesive and it’s hard for me to distinguish which is just a role and which is the truth. Why must Heath die?

Where is Patrick Verona who’s cute but request-for-a-punch, who’s a big liar but know how to win his girl’s heart, and win my heart?

I don’t think he’s still here anymore. He’s out of my life.

They say, the client is the king.

But sometimes they often forget: The quote doesn’t work at the hospital.

Coz, the doctor is the king here..

After read the prescription.. “Doc, are you sure that my sista’s just caught a cold?

Why da hell don’t you examine her blood?

She’s just already have typhoid! I’ve consulted an ophthalmologist and he said that her blood must be examined!”

Damn, just a flu and they want blood examination.

What does ophthalmologist know about typhoid?

As he read the instruction letter for hemoglobin examination..

“I don’t wanna have another blood examination anymore, Doc.

I’ve checked to the lab yesterday and my platelet has declined.

Why don’t you just hospitalize me instead?!”

Won’t this patient need a transfusion coz he’s already pale like a corpse?

He must’ve thought that I can transfuse him only by counting the platelet..!

Sometimes you call platelet a trombosit, Red.

As I told them to go home.. “Doc, why don’t you hospitalize my Dad?! 

He sneezes, he’s cold, and you don’t hospitalize him?!”

Flu-only don’t need hospitalizing!

OK, this one must stay here.. “I don’t wanna be hospitalized, Doc.

I wanna have the medication at home. What letter da hell is this, why must I declare my refusal?

And I don’t wanna sign up anything!”

Why, can’t you write down you own name? What if you just give your bloody fingerprint?

Sometimes the others make you jealous..

“Doc, why did you install infusion to the other patient and you didn’t do it to me, either?!”

That woman’s gonna have a surgery, that’s why she’s got infusion.

While you just have a backache, d’ya want me to open you up, too?

If you want me to, then I’ll give you infusion right now..

And after I run into the salle.. “Doc, where da hell have you been?

I’ve been calling you up and you just come now! My son’s really chilled now, Doc!

Why don’t you inject him?!”

Shit, so this one’s made the nurses rang me while I was having a shower?

Does he think that fever needs injection? Let me see the window.. OMG, this kid’s catch a cold!

Why da hell is the window wide-opened?!

And the complaint still continues.. “I don’t wanna have amoxicillin, Doc! It’s cheap!

I want Amoxsan, that’s superb!”

Oh, you don’t want generic drug? Rich-ass and you wanna sleep at the third class?

And because the complaint can’t just only be accommodated..

“Doc, I’m not satisfied by the service here, I don’t like being here!

I’m gonna report you to the director, he’s my neighbour!”

And I’m the future-daughter-in-law of president. Do you mind?

I really appreciate your smart-ass.

But would you answer me now, who went to medical school here?!

Ouw.. Apparently I gotta stop coming to parties only to goof on the socialites, but I have to concern more for congrating the host.

Things have been easier to me recently, coz I’ve just already got chicken pox, so I can give myself a little vacancy from parties, coz it’s impossible for me to join drinking, with a look like been already stung by red ants.

What stuns me is that my friend has just made a party a few weeks ago and instead, whether it’s coincidence or what, she didn’t invite me.

What? What’s my fault that made her not invite me?

1.       I might be popular as a guest who loves eating all of the food, so the host was afraid that the other guests would be ruined of meals.

2.      She might’ve thought that I was a celeb who was full-booked of invitations from everywhere, so she thought that I’d put her invitation in the last destinations.

3.       I could’ve been more gorgeous than the host.

It’s always a problem if I dress prettier than the host.

4.      If I wasn’t the guest who spent all the meals, usually I spent the parking lot more.

My five-doors-limo  obviously needed a lot of space, and I haven’t mentioned my driver who requested for a special lobby and an hot fabulous escort.

And all of my ridiculous theory just fell apart as the host was asked, why she didn’t invite me.

The answer was shocking more than ever, “What? I’ve had my event organizer invite her!”

It always confuses me if someone raves a party, but she has somebody else invite the guests to her party. Screw the event organizer today.

The host is her, ain’t the event organizer, so why must she have somebody else invite her guests, why didn’t she do it herself?

How could she trust a bunch list of names and addresses to a bunch of officials and tell them to drive the invitations to the names in the stupid list?

What if there are one or two invitations that the EO don’t send?

It’s not just about firing the EO, but it offends the feeling of the “forgotten-invited” guest, doesn’t it?

And suddenly I get the obvious answer of all those questions, I’m not more than just a name in a f*cking list.

That’s why the host didn’t bother to tell me by herself that she’d rave a party, but she told me by having an EO sending me invitation.

That the EO failed finding my address, or coincidentally had my invitation slipped in a stupid pile, it obviously didn’t bother the host.

Damn, I wasn’t really that happening in her eyes, then!

Thank God, Vic. You’ve just got already chicken-pox. The invitation didn’t come to you.

You don’t need to feel guilty of not coming to the party.

I just kinda feel losing this season of breeding. Oh, my mistake.

I mean, this season of marriages. Heheheh..

I’ve seen the world into many places. Kissing the sunset at Bromo. Ice-skating at Sydney.

Seducing the pimps at Pattaya. Vomit in a ferry at Lombok Strait. But I’ve never been on Malaysia.

Though I have a lot of fellas there.

“Why da hell d’ya wanna go to Malaysia?!” said a friend to me, edgily.

She says, the country is getting more popular coz they love copying anything from their country-next door, such as batik, angklung, ethnical song, and even the dance.

I told him that batik just lived in vain if it could only live in Indonesia.

Imagine, in this country, batik’s just worn at wedding party, or for intimate dress, or for 17^th ceremonies.

At Jogja where the batik comes from, the youth don’t often wear batik for hanging out at the Gejayan place. Though the Mirota store sells a lot of pretty casual batiks.

Who knows, at Malaysia, they can wear batik when they shop at malls.

I’m getting bored of people in harajuku styles hanging out at the coffee shops.

And Malaysia must be stupid if they admit angklung   as their heritage.

Angklung is made from bamboo, and bamboo can’t live on Malaysia’s land, so how could they make an angklung?

About Rasa Sayang Sayange song; if the song’s really made in Indonesia, can you sing it now, without reading a text?

I bet you don’t remember the lyric, except this one, Kalau ada sumur di ladang, boleh kita menumpang mandi. If there’s a well on the farm, can we join for shower?

Well, you mustn’t take a shower on a well on a farm, coz all the people will watch you naked.

And being naked at public is really forbidden at Malaysia.

So why must we be afraid that Malaysia will copycat our culture?

“You’re not nationalist,” accused my friend, by biting her pizza that day.

“You should react like a citizen whose culture’s robbed.

Now imagine if Indonesia admits this pizza is made in Indonesia?

That’s idiot. Everybody knows that pizza comes from Italy, not from Indonesia.

All people will make fun of us. Same like we make fun of Malaysia now.”

That’s stupid actually, I said. Not coz admitting that pizza is made by Indonesia.

But pizza actually comes from States, made firstly by the owner of Pizza Hut. Not from Italy.

We’ve been wrong.

But States never gets mad that their culture’s misunderstood as Italians, doesn’t it?

By the way, pizza at Indonesia is really made in Indonesia.

I tell you what, which anymore country will you find a pizza mad with topping of sambel tauco and chicken curry in? Italian pizza never cooks that way, even the Americans!

So why should you get mad if Malaysia claims our reog?

Malaysia can’t dance reog,  don’t care what kinda bullshit that they lie about.

Dancing reog needs megal-megol, and only Ponorogoans can megal-megol like that.

By the way, “About our original culture, can you megal-megol like reog?”

“I can’t,” said my friend, finally ending the out-of-date debate about the gain-Malaysia-now action. “But I can do poco-poco. That’s Indonesian original culture, isn’t it?

Watch out Malaysia’s hat if they copycat the poco-poco, too..”

I throw the paper to the corner and swear, “Cow!”

“Whatzup?” my sista was watching infotainment and gets stunned of me.

Oh, by the way, firstly and pleased, I’d like to tell ya that coz this is new year and I’ve just lost my ex again, I think I should make a few resolutions for making me a better woman.

First, I’ll eat vegetables and won’t put them outside of my plate.

Second, I’ll learn to replace the wheels of the car.

And third, I’ll stop swearing the bitches by calling them f*ck, sh*t, or pighead.

For the substitute, I’ll swear them by a name.. cow.

Stop Press! I haven’t done them and my friend at Madras has complained earlier,

“Vic, I’d like to remind you that a cow is an holy animal in our religion, so respectfully I’d like to ask you not for swearing people by the name of cow. However, shit remains better.”

He makes me wanna join the class of anger management.

OK, whom did I swear about?

Her name’s Wulansari, a.k Mulan Kwok,  who apparently by this month is officially changing into Mulan Jameela. And I’d like to curse Dhani Ahmad, her new under-hand-marriage husband.

Under-hand-marriage (Indonesian: nikah siri) obviously sets the trend today.

“They don’t make a fuck to you, so what bother you?” asks my sista, who always thinks that we don’t need to punch someone as long as he/she doesn’t call us bitch, sleeps with our husband, or with our Dad.

My reason is, “Thanx to Mulan that Dhani dumps Maia.  Does she forget that Maia has raised her to the top?

Why does she look like a gate eating the plants now?

Only stupid woman will sleep with somebody else’s husband.

And only stupid man will sleep with sephia.”

My sista doesn’t answer.

We continue watching the infotainment, and as Sophia Latjuba  shows up at the tv by holding her baby, again I’m always attracted. She’s a kinda woman who always make all the woman jealous, including me.

Why is she so that damn pretty? Is it about her German descent? Or her calm speaking? Or her tender smile?

But the truth is my sista, ain’t a woman who’s jealous of Sophia Latjuba.

“She robs somebody else’s lover. That’s such an original sin.”

I’m surprised. And I must confess that my sista’s right.

Everybody knows that Sophia Latjuba has made Michael Villareal left his first wife in a huge pregnancy, until today. But I remain loves Sophia, due to the previous reasons.

Now, why do I hate Mulan for stealing Maia’s husband?

But I say then, “Michael Villareal now always smiles next to Sophia.  Doesn’t it mean that he’s happy?”

My sista says, “Michael deceives.”

“What if his first wife didn’t make him happy and pushed him to find sephia?

Then he was seeing this Sophia and then, boom! Whether we like it or not, this Sephia drives him happy.

Are we giving our mercy or not?”

My sista tells me that I’d rather do the same thing to Mulan and Dhani.

Dhani might’ve dumped Maia coz Mulan drives him happier than Maia did. I think I have my objection.

Mulan Jameela is releasing her first solo album by this month.

It’s confirmed that the album is Dhani’s production, so for my solidarity to Maia, coz we both were cheated by our lovers, I won’t buy Mulan’s MP3.

Then according to my sista, “Ky, don’t overreact.

Even you buy the pirated MP3, you won’t give Dhani profit.”

“I will,” I say. “Buy the piracy of Mulan’s song, then Mulan will be more popular.

It will give profit to Mulan and Dhani.”

I get up from the infotainment that drives me bored, then I run into the shower.

I turn on the water and sings loudly, “Tuhan, kirimkanlah aku.. kekasih yang baik hati.. yang mencintai aku.. apa adanya!”

My sista gets stunned. “Ky? Are you singing Dhani’s song? Are you boycotting or what?”

I’m stunned now. Hey, why am I singing a la Dhani?

Such a cow he is, he’s damned but he writes a good song that makes me singing like this!