Rudy Yuan’s Streak oF BluE

I might have a bulging disgusting (it was adorable!) painful sty in my left eye, but that did not at all diminish the power of observation and creativity of my other eye.

Busway is a fascinating place where you can observe many fascinating phenomena (English tip: phenomena is the plural form of phenomenon. here i go condescending on you again. wahahha). Be sure to grab your camera readily l

I had always been astonished at news about child abuses and molestations that I often heard or read in paper or tv, but it had always been like a detached and distant matter to me, until I saw one that day. It truly made me sick to the level of making my sty burst with blood and pus (yaiks, it is disgusting!)

sister... your hand, please...

The kid was helpless with his sister’s hand pressing lying above his groin. He looked at me desperately but what could I do?? I liked the sight. Wahhahaah. But the kid wouldn’t feel anything anyway since his little supertiny manhood (anybody wanna confirm on the adjective? I have been always remembering mine as ‘awesome’…) wouldn’t and couldn’t be in any possibility of having such sensitivity to woman’s gentle touch (or hard, too, if you like, rough brush) of sexual desire deranged sisterly affection. I had to carefully tilt my handphone sideways to get the picture taken without suspicion¹.

And then there’s this.

“TIDAK DIPUNGUT BIAYA”??

What they wrote on that ad just was just simply confirming the common secret that you needed to pay quite large sum of money to get into the police academia. (well, sorry for friends who got into police force, maybe you have different opinions?)

And a little bit side dish for today main course: notice the contact email on the ad?

DIAPERS??? Did they choose the name because they had no idea what it meant or was it some Indonesian phrase or abbreviation I didn’t know? I thought we should consider telling them to change it before we became the laughingstock of foreign emissaries. Imagine a spy report writing this:

“About: Indonesian Police officers. Literacy and vocabulary status: super green, simply write all confidential reports in plain English when dealing with them (don’t even bother with encryption), apparently they still wet their pants, literally and figuratively, as can be seen from the attached evidence. You are entitled to LYAO²”

what a shame

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¹Okay, Jakartans, I know you love scandals, but that is truly not a fact. The sister was asleep and it was probably just a touch of protection laid in the wrong place (never put hands on groins, sister!), at the wrong time (the time a plot twister, sinister minded person like me was on board). But I am not responsible if there is actually something going on between the two of them. This footnote will not clear their sins. For that, that would be called forbidden (yet pleasurable) child-abusing incest, oh how I love the sound of it. Wakakkaka.

²This is, of course if you’re smart enough to guess, the third person version of LMAO. ;P. (if you still don’t know what it means, ASK GOOGLE, for my effing³ God⁴!)

³I just got this ‘effing’ phrase from the serial movie “How I Met Your Mother, 4^th Season” (Thanks R and T for that). I am not proud to say that I searched my Encarta dictionary to look for what it meant. My effing³ ignorance! (this “³” annotation indicator that just appeared would keep you looping in this footnote forever, so no need to reread the number 3 footnote from the start and just continue reading, for effing³ sake! ). ‘Eff’ was a UK slang to pronounce the first letter of F*CK (I put the C in deliberately so you wouldn’t be confused with the clothing brand FC*K I was so associated with recently). So in effect, “Effing” is similar to “F*CKING”. Did you get my effing³ explanation? (-End of Loop-)

⁴If you have got the clear idea of what note number 3 means, then ‘effing³ God’ is offensively rude. Calm down, I don’t mean to point to any religion. I am not particularly in any religion submission right now, so it’s definitely not your God who’s effing in my blog here.

Yesterday was Sept 10! It was exactly one year for me working with my current company. The time sure passes that quick. And I think there’s a hole in my bank account somewhere too, for where was all the money I’ve earned!!?! *Sigh* I am a good spender!

Anyway, that is not the topic. I’m trying to make this post short (which sounds like a joke).

So that day I was having an appointment with Petra again (since she was the only friend left here who didn’t have anything to do on workdays, like me). As usual, I was taking the Busway from SMK57, got off in Dukuh Atas 2, walked through the crossing bridge to change corridor, and soon found myself soaking wet with sweat in Dukuh Atas 1 (sweat on my body was making me sexy..)

That was when I saw the commotion.

A bus was stopping, its door open. It was the bus bound for Kota (not the way I was going, thankfully). Some crowd had huddled at the door. The bus was crowded, like usual, but the passengers who wanted to go out were not hurrying as usual. I thought it was just the usual occasion where passengers wanted to cheat by get into the bus through the exit door, which explained the three or four uniformed guards standing near there (maybe they were exercising some kind of punishment to the offender, I thought).

But then I saw some people’s bags were being searched. And soon a guard with the only brown uniform (the color surely indicated a higher rank than the usual red-orange Busway officer), shouted to the passenger, something like “Awas ya lo copet, bodo lo kira bisa nyopet seenak emak lo di busway. Bego lo, awas ga bakal selamat kalo ketangkep ntar!” (actually it might have involved some words in animal kingdom or satan-kingdom) . He made his sound very mad (which was so arrogantly police-like).

Okay, someone apparently lost his belonging.

Some passengers were held off for their belongings being searched

I took my camera and quickly snapped it as my bus approaching. Nobody said “cheese” though..

Hm, crime started to crawl into Busway these days. The tight space among passengers inside the bus surely helped. You could easily exercise sexual harassment, like pressing your groin into others’ butts, which I like to do which I had read in a forum happened quite often in Corridor I.

Or on the contrary, you could be granted some luck as a PRETTY GIRL (or boy, depends on your preference lah…) pressed their body (oh yeah, mama come to me) against yours involuntarily OR voluntarily, or, BETTER still, having a FAT UGLY INTOLERANT bitch pressing their sweaty pimpy face on your chest, making strange sounds…. and the smell….. NO it’s not happening to meeee, just a friend (hahaha).

I didn’t know the end of the story here, gotta get into the coming bus. Someone saw this yet on detik.com? Maybe there’s some mentioning (that web had gotten weird news even from kampoeng-kampoeng, how did they do that?? Maybe the advertisement from XL had anything to do with it, since it had the phony ‘Jangkauan Luas‘ tag [and I lost my XL signal all the time in the field]).

But whatever small enough to be put inside a bag they searched, would probably be lost already. The thief could have thrown it away to save his own ass, or better and more exotic still, kept the thing safe inside HER panty, tightly pressed against HER …. dirty thing (hahahah a little imagination won’t kill. You want me to type “under HIS underwear” instead ah?).

Be careful to keep your things in the Busway! Especially if you like somebody pressing or massaging your butt, it may be a lusty version of thievery. Just visit the massage++ centre lah.

I had known for a long time that I could stay inside my house for a long time. I am used to solitude and kinda like it. It gives me the freedom to do what I like and how I like it (I’m on top or maybe do it sideways… whatever I like. NAUGHTY! I’m not talking sex position!)

Of course I enjoy seeing friends too, since I can poke them anytime I like when they are around (Poking them through Facebook never gives me the satisfaction… poke poke). And of course there is always the gossip part.

Anyhow, I developed a theory that the longer one stays in the house, the more eccentric his behavior becomes. Here are some examples.

I stayed in my room the entire Sunday (again!?) (which also implicitly tells that I miss the church (again!?)). I didn’t wake up late though. I turned the laptop on, checked on new messages, logged into the messenger (replied some messages from my fans), put a vague status, and went to sleep again (while ignoring some persistent incoming fans’ messages - sorry fans…). Geez, it felt good to re-sleep (there’s no such word in English Dictionary, try my own creation dictionary).

The sleep didn’t last long, something felt not right, almost like guilt. I woke up and found myself staring at the laptop (what a beautiful laptop a Vaio is). And then I did something amazing: I took a bath! On other circumstances, when I hadn’t had any plan to go out, I would usually take the bath much more later. Today’s gonna be special for my doing that, I thought.

But I was wrong. Right after I took the bath, the heat started to attack. And the peaceful mind of mine that had given rise to my desire to be clean that day just simply vanished. So it’s better to be a little bit lazy somehow, right?

I did something abnormally innovative though. I took out my camera, and started taking shots of myself, trying on several face expressions and body languages (what the heck?). I concluded that I looked best when I was acting it cool. Too much laugh would stretch my eyes thin (barely visible!) and too serious would make me look old. Just a hint of sly smile was the right ingredient. I’m thinking of submitting it to the modeling agency. LOL. R u kiddin me!?

Several results of that photo session had landed on several places: on my Friendster profile, on the YM’s Photo Sharing feature with my friends (plural, noted, all girls… and some boys.. hahaha), on the YM’s display image, and… on some webs with parental control access (LOL). Well, the shot took quite a while, but sorting them and editing them took much longer. Although I was not that professional in this kind of thing, I was quite satisfied with the result (how not whenever a narcissistic looks at himself?? come on, you do too, right!?). If you had different opinions about them, keep it to yourself and lock it away, this is not democratic blog. Hhahaha.

Of course this was not that weird compared to an experience of a friend. (This story is PG-rated and had been certified by Ditto Prabowo’s gossiping community) One of my friend, say M (not the true initial), was so lazy to go out of his room that he decided it was more convenient to pee in a bottle and put it in the room behind the door (maybe on the thought that he might forget to throw it away). Later, unfortunately, the chief circulator of gossip came into his room and was, not surprisingly, thristy. He almost mistook the brown liquid or urine for green tea! And thus that was how the story went circulating in the mailing list of our university batch.

Weird things not only happen if you stay too long inside. It could start right not long after you entered certain places. Well, it was not strange if weird things happened once every while, but what if it happened EVERYtime you got into THE place. Take the car of a friend of ours.

There was nothing weird with the car. Small city car with metalic color and (don’t remember how many) mini-statues of Doraemon on the dashboard. Put in the right ingredients of people (I think ‘T’ should be present, ‘R’ was a pleasant option [<- definitely the other 'R', not me, guys!], and the owner himself), soon enough they would readily start conversing about the world of ’sex education’. Position of the seat doesn’t matter as long as ‘T’ got the direct blow of the air conditioner (which was pretty everywhere on the seats! He would start getting cold and blurt something worth scandalizing or scandalized). Last time they discussed some insightful knowledge such as 5000 rupiah service by Lawang occupiers or horny Shutter-like lady ghost who haunted the car, waiting the owner to stick his tongue out and started oral (PG-rated), among many things else.

This had also provided us The Ditto Prabowo gossiping comunity award winning scandal, which was the shocking revelation that ‘T’ had actually had an experience of certain pleasure in certain pleasuring place (I couldn’t put it more vague than this!!), which, like I told you, was extracted by several minutes of cold-AC-blowing to him (though I got this only from the chief circulator of gossip himself, not directly..). This put the mailing list member into havoc for a while…

Let’s switch to a more children-friendly topic, alright!?

Weird things do exist in the Busway though. (Busway was the current Jakarta’s only systematic bus transport service).

The earliest weird Busway experience for me is the swinging man incident.

A thin man was standing in the alley of the bus right in front of where I sat. You know how (especially Asian) busdriver drove, right. They braked and accelerated unforgivingly. This man, with each hand holding a handle on the left and right side, magically danced along with the braking and accelerating of the bus. Since the brake and acceleration happened quite often, he would swing his body backward, arching his body like a rubber, then sway forward, then took several small quick steps back and forth, moved and waved his body back and forth, like the man had no power to stand still on his feet and keep his body rigid. He was practically dancing to the rhythm of the bus. It was deeply abnormal for him to move like that in the bus and damn making me welled with laughter. How often do you see man “dancing” in the bus??

But I tried to suppress my laughter, so did my friend who sat beside me, until I caught a look from a girl across my seat. We just looked at each other, and somehow understood each other, and almost simultaneously bursted the laugh we had been suppressing. I was more reserved (cool, remember?) by turning my head sideways to hide the laugh. The girl, on the other hand, laughed uncontrollably to her mother arm. I avoided her glance afterwards to suppress more laugh, but how could I, when the man kept swaying along the way? And geez, the girl was kind of cute..

Nothing happened though. Her mother kept asking his girl why she laughed so hard and I kept noticing she took a peep on me (hahah, not again,,, after previous blog???)

*SIGH* I’ve typed enough. I still need to do something else!! So happy digging through the rubbish!