"It's Wed," I said to myself as I'm lazily laying on my back on the brown saggy carpet while the tip of my heavy head is resting on the mattress, if you look me from outside the glass window, i perfectly look like a homicide--only sexier because i'm on my last nite underwear with nothing more, it has been a hell of a sunny day in here and i am more than dehydrated, I am acutely bored with the TV, the only induligence for a few hours before my shift starts later in the afternoon.
MTV has never been so boring, it seems like they're simply airing the same playlist from yesterday and the day before, exactly the same order of song. Then a man shows up on Discovery Travel & Living, "Semi pro footballer slash Mortgage Something." The fact is he smiles alot which is nice to see. And he has this quirky laugh that successfully shows how inconvenient to be recorded on cameras with one big tag, "I'm an Idiot, cooking is not my thing."
Well, it's not written on his forhead, actually. He lives alone in his flat/apartment/house and does the Junk Food fiesta everyday and run for rescue to his mom for a slight of delightful change on the menu. We have a lot of common so i decided to stay tune for a little longer. "I hope i can learn something from him!" I am so excited.
Then here comes this chinese looking so-called chef to his rescue in a surprisingly British accent, like him. That was the moment I realized not all stuffs on TV are from the States. AND I started to like their accent with lots of emphasitation on the "t." And British/European dont use a lot of ,"like," in their speaking like Americans.
"That is totally me!!" I said shamelessly when the poor guy was challenged to cook for his whole family by the so-called Chinese Man With British Accent Chef after been taught how to cook one dish. He is all but panicky, fried stuffs before preparing another necessary things, "he's very disorganized," the voice who takes me along the program comments--he could be the chef himself. That's why I don't like cooking. I'm not saying I hate cooking, I just find it tortureously painful especially when it's done and the only look i got from your pretty face is like WTF?! Are you trying to kill me?! And the sad fact is I had never tasted any good thing from my own cook.
And just after watched it and another episode of sci-fi stuff on AXN Beyond, Green called me from downstairs, "I'm hungry, can you take care of the cafe for a while?" His older sister came with lunchboxes. My day is saved by the homemade super delicious lunch, hallelujah!!
Talking about homemade cook, i used to think my family was the master but during my university years 1460 days ago, i had realized i was wrong. It always takes some time for my tongue to get use to the salty food. Mom being a fish seller takes home fish that will last until the next day's lunch, cook them all (some are fried and some are curried or something,) and always generously pour the salt imagining it was the lovemagic she's working on. There were moment i was sick of the fish which was mostly fried all the time.
"What do you have?"
"Fish. Fried Fish."
And I would have the same old answer to the same questions. Porks and chicken meat are seasonal menu. Dad was the only great fan of pork. He'd get super intensive activities in the kicthen, "I'm just taking tiny portion," he'd say if anyone of us caught him working on a small plate of steamed rice and pork only a few minutes after breakfast or lunch or dinner.While my fetish is catfish which was a late discovery, again, during the univ years.
Mom would slain a chicken/hen upon my arrival on Christmas or Easter, "We'll have chicken tonite," she'd say excitedly, waits for my OMG You're the Coolest Mom look. It happened the first two years of my univ, later on I'd told her to stop giving me Homecoming treat, I miss the catsfish, you know, I would say but it's rare in Sibolga. I had never watched how mom cooks the Satanic Chicken, her signature dish I love the most. She mixed the Raw Blood of the Chicken as a finishing touch when the cook is boiled and done. Don't get me wrong, it has nothing to do with Pagan or Satanic sect, we're Christian and say Amen and decorate our five-year-old outdated green Christmas tree on December and watch Jesus on the crucifix on Easter--if it's on TV, of course.
Anyway, what i'm trying to say is that cooking is a sort of discouraging thing for me. I'd totally go YES Yes Yes for washing dish and take care of a pain-in-the-ass toddler instead.
Green said he wanted to buy stuffs and fill the fridge with onion, tomatos and veggies and stuffs which never happen so far. The idea of cooking for others is ultimately the World War threat and can cause a panick attack, seriously.
By the way, I talked with Ellie on the phone today.
"What and how are you doing?" I said in plain English and she was all like Halo Halo Halo Yes, who? Halo.
I dialled her number again. Didnt work, either.
But she finally said, "Hi Jerry," on my third attempt, "I'm cleaning up his fan."
She went on saying how amazing Cairns is, "The house is overlooking the mountains. There's just so many things I can do in here." Which she translated,"The house had never been cleaned for five years."
Well, at least she keeps herself busy with fun things like the fan and she's loving it.
Lammy called me earlier this afternoon.
"Do you want me to pick you up at the airport," I asked,"tomorrow is my midnite shift, you know."
He'll leave Bali around 10 in the morning. "How's the weather out there?" I asked the other day while looking outside, the rain was showing its ugly hardcore.
"Nice and sunny," he replied.
"Oh, I see. I just hope it'll be rain for the next four last days of your stay."
"Thank you so much," he said.
It's getting dark outside. 5.22 pm and i still have five and a half hour to go until my shift over. Please, let there be no rain nor blackout, not until I finish working, shower, and on my sleeping brief. Amen.
