Such a Pretty Fat by Jennifer Lancaster

I realize that I am fully responsible in selecting my reading materials. The time that I spent reading this book can actually be used for reading my Biosafety material. Quiz は来週の月曜日-and so far the polling is for close book quiz (13 vs 12 - slim, slim difference). But well. I have read all of them last week, I will just re-read them tomorrow and day after tomorrow.

Her first to books are more interesting because the problems she detailed in them are real world problems that I can actually sympathize and empathize with. In her third? Not so much because it is about her struggle to reduce her weight using various dieting methods and of course, hard exercise.

It is a damned first world problem that I, a girl from third world country*, who is struggling to get her bachelor** finds reaaalllly hard to sympathize.

Then, lady, perhaps you should consider walking a block instead of driving a block.

Perhaps you should eat smaller servings.

Perhaps you can take the stairs instead of the lifts.

She complains about unable to eat steak because it will hamper her weight reduction.

I cannot eat decent steak because it will suck up the fund I can use for, you know, graduating my ass off.

 

She complains about the discomfort of gym in the beginning, although she enjoys it later. Lady, at least you can still pay for gym membership and there is a possibility to enjoy a decent gym close to your quarters. She whines constantly about Atkins (ketosis phase sounds truly nasty) and expresses some dissatisfaction about Jenny Craig and Weight Watchers, and all I can think is...

Yes Jesse, my sentiment exactly.

What. A. Thankless. Bitch.

And she tells in a witty way how she, after being treated like a queen during her book tour, had to go back to reality. The thing that pulled her down to earth is cleaning dog poo and dog-piss-drenched carpeting.

I'll kiss the damned dirt if the worst thing that I should face in reality is cleaning the freaking canine excretion!

By reading her work, I contribute to her increasing fame (and bank account). I have moral dilemma here... but still, she is very entertaining. AUUUUGGGGHHHHH. And I just read her status in Facebook about how she bought a damned coffee machine because she is too lazy to climb the stairs to use one that is available!

AAA

AAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Six stars for this book because it's still witty but but but almost unendurable. 

Conclusion:

Life is unfair. Time to take some pictures, Photoshopped them decently, and advertise myself as a mail-order bride.

Or...

Signing up to migrant worker office...

Current speed: 9 male shirts/ 45 minutes, some folded in different sizes.

Or... 

Time to go all Walter White...

Or.

Time to read the Biosafety material. Or some Fitzgerald.

* face it, Indonesia - claim as much as you want that you are happy and not dirt poor, but nah, you bloody are.

** I will bring up this issue as much as I like. If I don't get it, then I shall consider the possibilities of becoming a mail-order bride (I have listed the possible countries in my head) and migrant worker. I still need to work on my ironing skill, but otherwise I am good in vacuuming, wiping, washing dish. I AM THIS DESPERATE. 

The Science of Loss

I just want this post to have an awesome title. There will be zero science involved in this post, in reality.

I came back to Indonesia about two weeks ago after spending about six months abroad.

And the first thing I did was weeping. I wasn't catatonic or something. I was darned helpful and functional. Heck, I unpacked my bags and everything. But the tears just kept falling down. 

I was bereft. I grieved. 

In Japan, I had my own income (small and just scholarship, but still!) and I managed it quite well and successfully.
Here I don't.

In Japan, I know exactly what I have to do.
Here I fucking don't.

In Japan, I lived with my roommate (who is very kind and understanding) and close to my friends. We shared similar activities.
Here, I don't.

In Japan, I can wear anything I like.
Here, hell no. I am asking for it. As one of my classmate kindly reminded me on my first day, "Dyah, ini Indonesia ya bukan Jepang." ("Dyah, this is Indonesia, not Japan.")

In Japan, no traffic to deal. By traffic, I mean traffic traffic, the insane kind that makes you cannot move. And you have the option to walk because the sidewalks are freakishly spacious.
Here, I risk get run over because although Indonesians pride themselves as religious race, they don't pay attention to other people's well-being. And traffic rules be damned. And sidewalks? 

Lovely. Where should I walk? Air? Pinpoint, please

The ones in close proximity of my house are even worse.

Japan is clean. Here, it is dusty (well, not much to do beside cleaning them and cover things and hope for the best - dust happens) and dirty. Trash anywhere.  And not sorted.
And there is a slogan that says "Kebersihan sebagian dari iman" (Cleanliness is half of the faith - roughly translated). Knowing this motto, and seeing the sanitary level of Bandung, I must honestly say that I am doubtful that Bandung citizens are really that faithful. Pah. Clean atheists are better than piggy holier-than-thou-hypocrites.

In Japan, I am free. I am freaking free to do virtually frigging anything.
Here, you can be damned sure I am not.

In Japan, I don't feel homicidal all the time.
Here, I am secretly plotting to bring an insane quantity of concentrated acid to spray to half of the people I interact with in a day.

In Japan, I can get holy-moly-heavenly cheese at princely price. AND ENGLISH MUFFIN. I ADORE ENGLISH MUFFIN. THAT'S WHY I AM IN LOVE WITH MCDONALD'S BREAKFAST PACKAGE. Because they have the goddamn english muffin and hashbrown.
Here. Bah. Don't even think about it. And do I miss Indonesian food there? Hell no. What for? There is a store that sells it in 新億簿. After all, I spend twenty-two goddamn years of my goddamn worthless life consuming those same food over and over again. So, no. Food is certainly not an issue there.

How do I deal with this loss?

By pestering my friend who is still in Japan. Boy. You have the patience of the saints. Saints plural.
By pestering my Indonesian friend who is patient enough to hear, respond, and understand. I love you, Kania! (she's awesome)
By thinking about my final project.

But still. Heavy loss is heavy loss. I really miss my friends whom I left behind. Nobody has time nor interest to play Hold 'Em and/ or UNO here.

I am better now. No longer crying on daily basis. And every time I feel huge loss, I drink Coca Cola (no alcohol here. First, insane price. Second, parents) and take precious bites from the Ritters my friend and his girlfriend gave me as parting gift (because in Indonesia Ritters is, well you know!). I still keep the melkesjokolade my other friend gave me as well. But, still... 

I miss Japan. And I miss them. 
And I cried again :') because nobody can refrain from crying when she recounts her losses.

Koala Kumal by Raditya Dika

He is my favourite Indonesian comedian! I prefer reading his jokes and anecdotes to listening to his stand-up sessions, though. I just cannot see the beauty of stand-up comedies. So far I've only watched Indonesian ones. Perhaps I should give the ones from other countries a whirl.

So after a wait that feels almost eternal (four? five? six years? I honestly cannot remember) I was ecstatic upon learning that he published a new book! Oh. YAY! The title is as usual, distinctive.

At least two hours of fun!

And so, I read it and the same thought occurred over and over again.

Dude just, I don't know, six, seven years older than me, tops? And he swims in money (at least that's how it looks, I mean, frequent hang out at malls? Kemang? Eating those GODDAMNED SHIOYAKIS?).*

Dreaming away and wept

And I also feel that the tone is more mature and serious. He seems very self-examining, without sacrificing the funny, in some parts. Good for him, bad for me because I do not want to thiiiink. I want a book equivalent to candy floss, not a fancy hundred-courses French meal, for example. I was waiting so enthusiastically for his books because his books for my brain is like Bailey's Irish Cream for my soul.** In the end, he admitted that there is a theme for every stories in Koala Kumal.

It is loss. And how to deal with losses.

I was silent for a while after reading that. 

This book cannot come in a more perfect moment. I felt severe, profound loss at that time. I cried my eyes out on the daily basis. After waking up, during the day, before going to bed, during bathing - in short, all the freaking time. My eyes were swollen all the time. But of course everybody is busy, admittedly with far more important thing than me.*** But then, came toddling along this book. This book made me laugh. Made me forget about my loss. Lifted some of the stress. Thanks, Raditya Dika.

I think I'll give this nine out of ten stars. Why not the perfect score? Because of the mature tone. Sorry! 
______________________________________________________________________________

*Yes, I mull about money a lot. Sorry, Saint Timothy. Like a computer, there's a part of my brain dedicated solely for thinking about that thing. How to spend less and to obtain it. Let's just say it's fortunate for me and my family (core and extended) that I spent twelve years in a Catholic school and I don't remotely look like Dian Sastrowardoyo (for you Indonesians who will certainly get the reference!) or Jessica Alba.

**Oh. Bailey's...

***Losing me has more pros than cons, at least to the world in general and my family. Less mouth to feed, less land to spare (for housing, etc.), less water will be used, one less fertile female to populate the cramped world.

時間とお金があったら、この小説を読む

The barriers between me and reading them are my mood and the availability of time and filthy, filthy lucre. To make matters more complicated, most are series.

• Gossip Girl by Cecily von Ziegesar
  I am a sucker for repentant douchebags. Especially if the said douchebag looks like...

  

  Thanks for existing in this world!

  
  

  
  

  
  

  I really want to read all the Gossip Girl books and watch all the episodes in the TV show. From what I know from Wikipedia, the storyline differs between the novels and the show. Yeah, I've got a shitload of spoilers from Wikipedia, but I still want to read the books and watch the show. I'm odd that way.
  
  
• Mortal Instruments (and Infernal Devices) series by Cassandra Clare
  The movie adaptation admittedly is not that impressive. But at least it has Cersei Lannister, hot version of Henry VIII, and Jamie Campbell Bower. It makes the movie redeemable. This series has been marked as 'nothing special YA series', 'so similar with others', yadda yadda. But still. I kind of want to read them.
  
  
  

  

  I totally did not lie, I kid you not! See? See? See?
  
  

• Mortdecai by Kyril Bonfiglio
  Found them during a stroll in 神保町 with a particularly やさしい boy (yes, you - who else?) in a bookstore that carries a lot of foreign books. Hooked on the name (Mort-decai) and premise (seemingly silly, incompetent PI).
  
  
• The Talented Mr. Ripley by Patricia Highsmith
  Because I love reading about charming sociopaths.
  

Bright Lights, Big Ass by Jennifer Lancaster

Hiya!
Updating my blog this frequently is unusual, I admit. But this is the only way to prevent me from posting:

1. Self-pitying status on either Facebook and/ or LINE (self-pitying comment has already been written - too late to do anything about that);
2. Picture containing self-pitying statement; 
3. Profanity-filled status on the two aforementioned social media;
4. Picture stating my current/ latest emotional condition (angry/ super pissed off/ worried shitless/ helpless/ desperate/ sad - yeah, no positive feeling at all. AT ALL. I almost wished my flight fell into Hindia Ocean or something. Just kidding! Just a macabre, inappropriate joke. After all, I am not nice enough to enter any version of heaven in any religion. If my heart is weighed against the feather in Egyptian version of heaven, the scale wouldn't freaking balance. The side that carries my heart will maybe just drop. I need to bank more good deeds. Heh.)
5. This

Ain't she charming?

Because every time I feel annoyed, I always post Adora or use her as my profile picture. Sorry, gal. Don't stub me with your cigarette stub. 

Or, stab me with your stiletto. I beg you, don't.

And this is also the only way to prevent me from controlling a lady named Mayberry Delancey (Mayberry Oss after marrying Edvin Oss) for THREE FREAKING STRAIGHT HOURS. 

Binge Sims 3 gaming, commence. That poor PC.

Blogging and reading a fun book are admittedly counterproductive, but they are the least counterproductive from all the activities I can choose. And I did productive things before. But, after all,  you can only have that amount of dirty dishes. And you can only eat that much before you feel full and/ or balloon. And, counterproductive as they are, at least they are good media for practicing my English.

So now, it's about the book. As you maybe have deduced from the title, this book is a light read. I don't care, judge away. I frankly prefer reading materials that entertain me, not the ones which make me seem more intellectual or whatever. This book is a sequel to Bitter is the New Black, which I have read before. I read Bright Lights because I like Bitter.

Why was I interested in Bitter in the first place?

Because of the subtitle, obviously ^^

Whoa. Carrying a Prada bag. To the unemployment office.  マジ？

After finishing reading it (didn't take a long time because Jennifer Lancaster is a very entertaining author), yes, マジ。

But I've read Bitter quite a long time ago, so I cannot really review it. On the contrary, I just finished re-reading Bright Lights recently (as recent as two-three hours before this post is published) so I am absolutely in good capacity to review it.

I like Jennifer Lancaster plenty as an author. Her tone is witty and there is enough sarcasm and dry wit in her books. Bright Lights highlighted the events after Bitter, in which their situation gets better after unemployment caused of the burst of the dot-com bubble. Bright Lights can be enjoyed as both sequel and standalone novel. After reading two novels by her (and in the middle of the third), I must say that I think Jen Lancaster's husband is either a saint or crazy about her or both. Both is very probable. 

The lifestyle you can have from a couple (whose female half working a temp job and writing and the male half working a permanent job, but not necessarily long lasting) in Chicago, Illinois, USA is very different from Bandung, West Java, Indonesia. But maybe the fact that this couple only has two human mouths to feed (not counting two dogs and three cats, if I recall correctly) also contributes to the difference. I mean, this couple can still consume lots of food I consider luxury (pork chops, liquor), buying things at IKEA, and buying new things. 

Here, in Indonesia, you are very lucky if you can still pay the taxes and mortgages and whatnot with the salary you get from that kind of job. That kind of lifestyle? Impossible. Eating outside is also ちょっとダメ as well. 

I feel a bit strange about the author's stance about her weight. I understand that inner beauty is important (But sometimes the nastiest girls get the best boys, solely because of their beauty - and that's life. Being pretty and cute is important, actually. At least, it helps. Anyone who's telling you that only inner beauty is important is either a liar or as naive as you), nobody should feel ashamed about his/ her weight, and nobody should develop bad body image. But, uhm, when well... your size keep increasing and your diet seems delicious but you rarely exercise (as in driving instead of walking a block), I think you need to watch out. Because, although Jen Lancaster maintains that her cholesterol level is fine and blood pressure is awesome and she is pretty and decked in good taste on daily basis (I don't know about the first two, but I certainly agree on the third), having that kind of weight cannot be healthy in the long run, in my opinion. As you get older, you can wave hi to your soon-to-be-仲良し - the dreaded atherosclerosis, hypertension, diabetes type II.

 

Chances of encounter are high!

And I am amazed on the amount and type of drugs she takes. Xanax? Zoloft (if I am not mistaken).

Let's just say that USA is a very different country, judging from this book.

But they have awesome food there. As comparison and example, I have desperately sought an affordable cheese that can melt. 

This. The only one that is available in whole country.

To no avail. Either they don't produce it anymore (PLEASE DON'T SAY THIS IS WHY I DIDN'T FIND ANY) or four stores simultaneously run out of this cheese. But I haven't tried the コンビニ, although admittedly I am pessimistic I can find it in コンビニ. If they no longer produce it, I am ちょっと fucked because that means my only options are spreadable (ProChizz, quite OK but still IT'S NOT MELTED CHEESE), no melted cheese for the rest of my life if I am trapped here, or the insanely expensive real mozzarella which retails for Rp 42.500,00 (equals 3.24 USD, 2.92 euro - dirt cheap for you, freakishly out of range for me).

In Chicago, a couple that considers themselves 'saving and broke' can still buy and consume Brie, nice take-outs, and five different kinds of nice cheese. So different. But it maybe because decent cheese is a staple there and a luxury here. I don't know.

Reading Bright Lights is very entertaining, but also makes me feel a bit bitter. Still, ten stars.

And lots of apologies if this post is not too focused.

On Marlowe, and Why I Fall in Love with Him

Phillip Marlowe is a tough-talking and clever sleuth created by Raymond Chandler, the greatest noir author ever. Hammett may be an ex-Pinkerton and one of the pioneer of the hardboiled genre, but nobody can quite match Chandler. I was charmed with him in The Big Sleep, adored him in The High Window, infatuated in Lady in the Lake, and fell with him in Little Sister. I can't imagine what I'll feel about him in The Long Goodbye.

Marlowe is hard and simple on the outside, but soft and complex inside. Many of his clients are unable to see more deeply into him. All they can see is he's a shamus for hire. But hello. How many shamus out there that can distinguish and enjoy good wine, secretly mellow inside, and can quote from literature? Not many. Only Marlowe, solely him.
He can be involved in a dangerous brawl in one night while saving a damsel. He can interact and mingle with crème de la crème quite easily. He can flirt with femme fatales well and treat the innocents with courtesy. He does not gamble and drinks occasionally for fun and not for getting black out drunk. He smokes and lives modestly, but it is okay. He is debtless and lives within his means, without being reduced to shabbiness. 

Phillip Marlowe - he is a perfect gentleman.

I have only seen one movie adaptation of Marlowe, The Big Sleep, where he was played by Humphrey Bogart. Bogart is a good choice for portraying Marlowe, I think. The gestures and that drawl are so Marlowe! And the fact that his co-star is the inimitable Bacall... It makes the movie salvageable. 

Wheee wheee wheee!

Why salvageable? The movie was unfortunately produced after the establishment of the Code, which means many details, and even story line and solution from the original novel were adapted so that they adhere to the Code. That is totally 残念and ダメ and GOD HOW IT PISSED ME OFF.

But I am born too late and too southeast to have any say in the production. So. Be. It.

So those are my reasons why I slice off a piece of my heart and bequeath it to a fictional character for keepsake. Here, I endeth my fangirling.

Credits for images (written in the sequence they appear):

• http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Books/Pix/pictures/2014/3/5/1394025956274/Lauren-Bacall-and-Humphre-009.jpg
• https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0X-f2360E5QqZwPYc_SWLDTwbQKwe3mxJmsPW4MHVjd3FXzH3w3_zwxN8kz-pDqd-h_y0tyCvBJHm4_WOSNTsbdydYQdHC6pXeb2sZU65mI6PPyPviaVEN90HgQ9CrxS-AMV6xvtzIGhu/s1600/you-guys-are-so-busted.gif

Deep Blue Goodbye by John D. MacDonald

OOOH.
I love bad boys with morals. They are the best :)

I was finishing a book by Charles Ardai, Fifty to One. This is a decent book but now I am not in the mood for reviewing it. I was pleasantly surprised upon knowing that this book was written fairly recently because the hardboiled tone is perfect. That means they still make 'em after all!

Not a scene from the novel, but still freaking awesome

Ardai is definitely in my list of to-watch authors from now on.  

Okay, back to the topic. In the postface, Ardai writes about 'mythical, legendary books people say in whispers that are probably exist'. One of them, he says, is MacDonald's Travis McGee 'black book'. That made me curious. The only books that have colour-related titles that I know are Mao's Little Red Book and the Yellow Book, an Islamic holy book, apparently. So, what's that black book and how important is it? Why the fuss? And so I decided to Google John D. MacDonald and Travis McGee. The premise hooked me immediately because I like 1. flawed heroes, 2. bastards with carefree attitude on the outside but golden hearts inside. The premise is also very similar with The Finder, a not-so-successful TV show (the characters guest-starred in one Bones episode, once) which I enjoy. 

So I got the books pretty soonish and started reading the first pretty soonish as well.

The reading experience had been enjoyable. The book proved to be a good read in almost every situations. Before going to bed, in the middle of journey when you're a passenger in either a full backseat of a car or a sleepy morning train, waiting for PCR, etc. This is not a book that makes you feel like you have to read it non-stop, but you'll also hate to just skip to the end. Deep Blue Goodbye is a darling :) a Coca Cola of book. No boring moment, the pacing is perfect, the characters are logical. Travis seems to be really charming though - almost all the ladies want to jump him, but it is a common feature from books from that period. And, I mean, from the author's skillful description, he's damn irresistible. Who can resist a tanned boy (not overtanned or something) from Florida, who can look as if he's anyone, (accountant, boat boy, salesperson, anyone), is confident without being cocky, witty, clear-headed, good with boat, a decent poker player, has good physique, can survive in almost any conditions, and can extract himself from almost any sticky conditions? Not me. I will definitely jump him as well or give him some chaste - or not so chaste - kisses. 

At least a hundred. Each time with different warpaint colour

The antagonist is a loathsome bastard. I am surprised that he can get away with his deeds for quite a long time, because his nastiness is pretty obvious. He is so awfully disgusting that it will take me some time to be able to view someone with the name Allen in a good light again. I cannot see the reason behind his crimes, though, because I cannot wrap it around my head the reason someone wants to corrupt and degrade another human so thoroughly. 

The damsels, though in great distresses, are proven to be able to hold themselves well. They got beaten, humiliated, fleeced, but in the end, it is proven that without them McGee's accomplishment will not be as good and smoothly achieved. Not all of them get the happy endings, which makes the story feel more realistic. 

If you love hardboiled genre but want to read one set not in a Windy City or any city full of smokes, gutters, rainy days, and whatnot, the Travis McGee series is a good choice. 

I'm willing to bestow it 10 stars. Just because.