2007 will leave us shortly. And there are several things I would like to say to all readers who have visited my blog, read my postings, left comments and been involved in the discussions.

Since 18 October 2007, after moving from my original Finally Woken in Friendster to Blogger, my new Finally Woken blog has been visited by almost 6,000 readers. That means it’s about 2,000 visitors a month. Or about 70 people a day. Whoa! I have never realized that so many people actually read my blog.

When Patung of Indonesia Matters started to gather blogs to develop Top 100 Indonesian Blogs, I submitted my blog out of curiosity. And I was surprised to find out that I made it on the 69th position in English category at the first time. Although then the rank has been changed several times and I’m reaching the bottom page right now, I’m quite proud that I have made it, at least for a while. For a blog which was 2 months old that time, it was a big achievement.

Fatih Suyud, one of most respected Indonesian bloggers, made a review about me in December 13th as Indonesian Blogger of The Week. I don’t know why he chose me in the first place, as my humble existence is nothing compares to lots of others, but I’m really flattered and honored to be acknowledged by such a big personality in Indonesian blogosphere.

Over the time, I have made contacts and friends with other Indonesian bloggers, some of them are much bigger and more famous than me. Most of them have been around Indonesia blogosphere for a long time. Some of them actually write for a living. Some have their books published. Their presences are intimidating, and when the first time I noticed they visited my blog, I jumped like a child in a candy store. I value their comments wholeheartedly.

Then more serious matters come. A person (I can’t tell whether it’s a man or a woman, the name is ambiguous, but let’s assume it’s a man) sent me an email, asking my permission to use one of my postings as his argument basis on his assignment in the university. I was surprised to find out that my posting in September 2007, ‘Real’ Friends, is considered worthy enough to be put on his footnotes (his essay title is “Do Social Websites Enhance Personal Relationships?”; and if you stumble upon his writing, please let me know. I’m curious to read what he has written). It was quite scary too, because that moment I realize that people do read my blog and value my thoughts, which means I have to be more responsible for what I write, while must keep maintaining my own identity. Another wake up call coming later on when one of respected Indonesian blogger decided to vanish in the thin air because his/her physical safety was in jeopardy. The great blog was deleted, and even up to date I still visit the blog, hoping it would come back again.

Jakartass occasionally sends emails to me and other bloggers. His comments and questions are intimidating and push me to keep my eyes open of my surroundings, be aware of what happens, and think outside the box. He will have a great project coming in the next few months, and I am honored when he offers me an opportunity to participate, although at this moment I still have no idea how to start!

I am also quite pleased that in 3 months I have had a quite well developed blog. I steal the info, tips and tricks from some blogs like The Aroengbinang Project and Blog Tips. I have learned the curly HTML language, and I although I’m far from an expert, I could develop my blog pretty well, and my silly addiction now is infectious! Ecky will not just buzz me through Yahoo! Messenger to ask me questions about how to do this and that, she even will send text messages to get quick answers. There was a time when she sent me SMS when I was in a train to Edinburgh and I had to use my memory to answer her questions. And now she is online much more often. Melly now has moved to Blogger too and says that she becomes addicted to writing because of me. I want to clarify here that I’m not responsible if their partners claim that these ladies pay attention less to their partners because they spend too much time in front of computers…

I have developed good friendships with several other bloggers. And although sadly I had to give the Indonesian Blogger Christmas Gathering a miss 2 weeks ago, I promise to meet up with some Indonesian lady bloggers in January 2008 before I leave back to Scotland, and I am so looking forward to meet them in person. Would be interesting when meeting Parvita who generated over 300 reactions in IndonesiaMatters over 1 topic. Or Elyani who is always nice and wise when leaving comments.

But one thing that makes me happy the most: having you, the regular readers who bother to come and come again to read my postings. Because of you, every time I’m lost in words, every time I can’t think of anything to write, I think of you, my regular readers. And somehow I always find some topic, no matter how silly it is, to write. Because of you I write much more often. Because of you I want to keep writing. Because of you I seriously think what I am going to write and how you are going to take it.

And because of you all, I am here, right now. Ready to leave the year 2007 with nothing but pride and joy. And facing 2008 with a big smile and wish. Hoping and knowing that we all will meet again, and go through it together.

So, how was your 2007?

I have found out lately that this person - let’s say the name is Copycat - whom I know through a friend, has been following my virtual steps. Although to be honest, I think that this person has been doing this waaay before I have entered blogospehere.

It started with small things. It’s not difficult to notice since this person was quite close to me back then. Physically. And Copycat followed my steps, physically too (not literally shadowed me, but, well, almost though). What I did, Copycat did it the next day. What I said, Copycat said it the next day. Where I went, Copycat went the next day.

Being copied is one thing. Raised by parents who always teach me to watch my moves and be aware of social etiquette, I find Copycat is irritatingly has no manner. Several times Copycat did something which drove me crazy, all small things, most of them are nonsense to others. But for a person who pays attention to the greatest details and expects the best out of everyone, nothing escapes from my eyes.

Then we have drifted apart. I have no regret since I couldn’t find anything in common with Copycat. Over the time, however, I silently confirm what I have been thinking about Copycat.

I moved to Blogger in October after Ecky’s suggestion. Before long I have found a new addiction, and also a new community. Copycat finds it shortly afterwards since we are virtually connected. Copycat goes to blogs and sites I regularly visit and leave comments just like I do. Copycat puts links on Copycat’s new blog (guess what is the weblog publishing tool that is chosen for such honor?), all the links which I put on my Finally Woken. Being a true copycat, Copycat never acknowledge how Copycat lands in people’s sites. Usually when the first time a blogger leaves a comment in someone’s site, s/he explains how s/he is directed to that particular site. It could be a link from someone else’s blog, or an accidental finding when google-ing a specific topic. It’s like when I typed “copycat image” on Google, I’ve found two cute images which I considered best to describe what I’m writing. And when I put the images on this posting, I link the image back to the original sites.

Anyway I couldn’t care less, though. I don’t need Copycat to acknowledge my existence. I could pretend and practice to be a celebrity whose everything is being copied and followed by (a) fan(s). And the bigger the person, the more fans they will have. For someone who’s far from perfect, who’s not famous, who has so many flaws, who is still learning, who hasn’t reached many goals, who hasn’t met success standards, and who is a fan of many bigger people, having someone else thinking I’m worthy to be followed should be considered an achievement, right? Right?

Beside, I guess I’m lucky because Copycat doesn’t copy my design, creation, or my other intellectual properties. What Copycat has done so far, to my opinion, is copying me. It feels like Copycat has been trying to develop a world’s perception about Copycat. But you can’t copy a brand. You can’t change your personality to be someone else. You might try to be someone you’re not but it will make you tired, wouldn’t it?

Perhaps I’m overreacting. Perhaps I’m being fussy over nothing. But I can’t help feeling itchy although I couldn’t find which part of my body that is needed to be scratched. Maybe I need sharp claws from Tilly Cat, my original cat!

Note: big thanks to the copycat images which I copied from people who are talking about being copied, not cats. Click on the images to find the links to the original sites.

On my birthday last year, I reached it with sort of euphoria. My contemplation which I wrote last year reflected several small things I have discovered when I have had reached over 30 years old box (click here to read last year’s post). I felt I was being in the best time in my life: great job, great friends, great love life.

I have had moved to a great company which gave me a lot of opportunity to travel around Asia with a possibility to visit Paris one day, and I was given a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity to lead a project and work with 9 other Asian countries and a high profile management consultant, as well as continued renovating the office but this time I was enjoying being a client (which actually almost made me got a heart attack, as you could read here).

My friends and I were close and we were having good times with almost non-existent disagreements. If you have read my posts throughout 2005 you would have found that I was talking about friendships a lot. It was the first time a person I thought was a close friend ditched me (read about her here) and it hurt as much as if we break up from our partner. It was the first time I met someone who is so tricky I didn’t know what to do and finally gave up (more details in here). But 2006 was much better, I have found new friends who accept me as the way I am as I do to them, and my relationship with existing friends couldn’t be better, so we have conquered 2007 with fun, fun, fun.

My then boyfriend and I were happy even though he had to move back to Aberdeen. I didn’t complain because I was having the benefit of being single. We have had lived together for over a year and it was great, and when he moved away our relationship had survived the difficulties of being separated from each other, because we trust each other deeply.

This year, since early December, I have been trying to summarize my life for the past 12 months. I thought it was difficult to beat 2006, but 2007 is actually bigger and better. I am surprised to find that I have done so much in 2007: got engaged, quit a high-profile job, moved 12,000km away from Indonesia, got married, got pregnant (but lost it when it was 3 months old). Not bad at all for 33 years old!

But of course I have found several things too, like:

Being older means being more patience
Yes, I have mentioned this many, many times. But the combination of being a perfectionist and stubborn makes me difficult to maintain my composure when something is not right happens. I went to Lombok with my mother, and when we were going back to Surabaya, I couldn’t believe that our trolley (which was full of 2 small suitcases and lots of oleh-oleh from Bali and Lombok, courtesy to my father’s staffs) was not allowed to enter the check-in area. I told the security officer by the gate that this is the first time and probably the only airport in the world which doesn’t allow people to carry their trolleys in. What, they expect us to carry 8 items with 2 hands? But a second later I stopped, because I realize there was no need to shed my sweat to a clueless security officer, he wouldn’t understand the logic. So I shrugged, and continued my journey. The other day I sent text to Tamara about some small matter between me and someone else. She sent texts back saying that as the older ones (ouch!), we should be more understanding, see the big picture, and see the reasons behind it. I calmed down right afterwards. OK, so I might not be able to be a Dalai Lama, but at least I have tried, and when I become impatience, it only took a much shorter time to realize that I shouldn’t waste my energy for something unimportant. It gives me wrinkles anyway!

Being older means being able to laugh at self
I wrote about myself being stupid here, being a laughing stock here and here. It’s a newfound skill. Being looked at not seriously is one of my biggest fear, and when I have overcome it, it feels good. Being able to laugh at myself turns out doesn’t change what people think about me in general. Actually it makes me feel more relax and I don’t have to maintain my perception about myself to the world (in other words, I have stopped being jaim- jaga image). I think it’s the combination of being around my ex-colleagues in Procon Indah and found a boyfriend who likes portraying himself being silly and seeing his friends treating each other with mean practical jokes. When the water stopped running during my shower in Bali, my mother was furious and kept calling everybody (now you see where I get that impatience skill!). I, on the other hand, after waited for half an hour, got out of the bathroom and sat down with a kimono and hair full of bubbles, waited the water to run back.After 45 minutes I told my mother that I was going to the spa downstairs to continue my shower, especially because my hair was getting sticky and itchy. We passed the poor housekeeping guys who had to refrain their smiles looking at me with bare feet, wet kimono, and messy-bubbly hair with water dropped on both cheeks every half second, because my mum yelled at every one of them. We passed the security guys who had to receive my mum’s preaches about the hotel standard. We entered the spa, where the receptionist tried to block my way, but I was being so authoritative they let me in after 2 seconds. But the whole incident didn’t make me mad. I actually thought it was very funny. I knew people think I look silly, and I did too! And I’m fine with that.

Being older means giving without expecting people do the same thing
I learn from my father and Stuart, who give with silence, never boast what they have done, and never ask anything in return. Over the years so-called friends came to our BBQ party by the pool, but only a few of them actually saying thank you for being invited to such occasion. Others came, eat the food, threw themselves into the swimming pool, and went home without even bother to look at me. Some even got drunk and was dragged out of the party by his girlfriend who was embarrassed of his behavior, and both didn’t say sorry up to date (talk about manner!). I sent birthday cards and birthday gifts to people, but they didn’t do the same things on my birthday, although some remember to send texts. It is difficult thing to understand because to me people are being remembered by little things they do, and that’s how I want to be remembered by, and I presume everybody does too (obviously I’m wrong). So now I’m learning to accept this unbalanced act without a grudge. And hopefully I will reach the point that when I give, I will give without expect they will do the same at me, just like Stuart and my father.

Being older means being recognized as self, not the daughter of
It took years to shed my parents’ shadow away from me. When I was little, my mother was famous because she was a local TV anchor so everybody recognized her. She was also a serious journalist and had won a literature award for her writing. Her circle of friends were full of famous people like Rendra, Emha Ainun Najib, NH Dini, and so on. When other kids went to see Catatan si Boy and meet Onky Alexander, I went to see Rendra reading his poetry about geckos. I hated it when people think I write because my mother told me to. I hated it when I got teased by my seniors in high school when they asked me to pretend reading the news like her. I felt claustrophobic living in a small city where everybody knows everybody and whatever I did always got connected with my parents. When I left home at 18 and studied architecture in a different city (I refused to study medicine even being a doctor is something my father’s family do for over 3 generations), I started building my own identity although sometimes people still recognized me as the daughter of them. I like to work my ways up, being known as myself without help from others. I am proud to say that I have found jobs without any help from parents or other family members, that I write without any push from my mother (she reads my blog occasionally but never makes any comment). That now people stop comparing me to my parents except that I look like my mother. That now people know me as an individual. Hurrah!

Being older means being happy the most at home
I’m not saying that I don’t enjoy going out. I arrived on Thursday and surrendered to the jet lag. But on Friday I was already up and about, and managed to appear on the next Eastern Promise newsletter. First weekend and I was already busy! But I don’t feel like I must go out. I could enjoy Friday nights at home doing nothing as much as in the pub or club. I don’t feel like a loser just because I choose to stay in. I have passed the phase that I have to prove to the world that I work hard and party harder. I just do what I feel I want to do. Ah, an obvious sign of getting old…

Further reading:
My Contemplation of Being Older

In certain shopping malls in Surabaya, like Tunjungan Plaza and Surabaya Delta Plaza, every time you have the urge, you have to pay Rp 1,000 (around USD 0.10) per person to enter the toilet. This weird policy has been applied for years without protests from the visitors or the council.

When I was studying architecture, we were taught several rules we have to apply when designing toilets, i.e. the ratio between visitors and the number of cubicles, the appropriate or suitable materials used, access, lighting, power, plumbing, air conditioning, and so on. The standard designs vary between hospitals, commercial buildings like shopping malls, offices, schools, residential buildings, or special buildings like nuclear station. We also were taught that toilet is a part of public amenities and the standard design is supervised by the council. I have found the Government Regulation (Peraturan Menteri Pekerjaan Umum no.30/PRT/M/2006: Pedoman Teknis Fasilitas dan Aksesbilitas Pada Bangunan Gedung dan Lingkungan) that clearly states that everybody, including private sectors, must follow the regulation and standard application, where it also gives a guideline of the design for the handicapped people.

Aside from the fact that I rarely see shopping malls provide access for the handicapped people, I couldn’t find the regulation that governs whether charging the visitors are allowed or not. And Tunjungan Plaza or Surabaya Delta Plaza are not the only place in the world which charge their visitors. Edinburgh Waverley Train Station’s toilet, for instance, charges £0.20 (or around USD 0.50) for each entry.

But there are the differences between what the shopping malls in Surabaya and the train station in Edinburgh provide:

• With Rp 1,000 you could buy a bottle of Teh Sosro or water. With £0.20 you could buy hmmm…. nothing, because you have to fork £1.00 out of your pocket for a bottle of water. So how come we pay more than Scottish people, while our GDP per capita is USD 3,700, ten times (!!) lower compares to Scotland’s USD 33,700? Something is wrong with the calculation of toilet retribution here.
  
• By paying Rp 1,000 you would get 2 pieces of thin toilet paper. Or the single roller is put on the lobby and you could get as many as you want. No standard practice, it’s up to the mall management. Imagine if you are in a hurry and just enter the cubicle to realize that there is no paper provided inside! With £0.20 you don’t have to be worry that your comfort is in jeopardy. The toilet roll will be there for you.
• By paying Rp 1,000 you would get marble floors dim lights to set your mood up (wtf ?). With £0.20 in train station, it’s standard (or cheap) ceramic tiles and bright lights.
• By paying Rp 1,000, you must juggle to work your brain out, how you hang your fancy bag and shopping bags because there is no hook provided. The only option is to put them on the marble floors (aaah, now that’s why they choose to install USD 100/sqm marble rather than USD 10/piece hook!).
  
• By paying Rp 1,000 you would get a nice surprise to feel that the hand soap is pink but has been mixed with water, so you basically get colored water. Imagine if you’ve done number 2…

Worse, there is a mall that has grades for its toilet. There is one with Rp 1,000 cover charge and you would get a fancy cubicle, there is one with Rp 500 and you only get squat closets and dirty and wet floors, and the free one, well, you can imagine what’s in there.

So this is a way the shopping malls say, that if you have no money, think again to come to our building, because you will be charged for everything. We wouldn’t let you out without spending money, so don’t think you could go for sightseeing only. No matter what, we will get the money out of your pocket.

Now how can I wash my stinky hands?

I‘m just back in Indonesia (I suppose I can’t call it home anymore because Scotland is my home now) yesterday and before too long I’m annoyed already. Not because the idiot KLM counter officer in Aberdeen airport made my luggage wandered around Schiphol Airport without its owner and arrived a day after me. Not because the unbelievably slow dial-up internet connection makes me drink coffee three times more out of a boredom of waiting for the graphics and words to grace my monitor screen. Not because I have been so used to quiet Aberdeen I had to bite my nails waiting for the traffic to move. It is because I realise that Indonesians are rude.

Yes, we keep bragging as the country of friendly people with smiles and good services. Which somewhat is true. When money is present, Indonesians smile broadly. I expect to get good services from taxi drivers, bank officers, receptionists, waiters, even security guards. But those who are not in the service industry will behave like this is their own world and no one else deserves better than them.

It started from the last journey I had to take, from Singapore to Jakarta. Unable to sleep during 13 hours flight from Amsterdam because the lady sitting next to me was so restless and her partner snored so loud I barely could concentrate on my CSI show and killed the mood to watch any movie, we landed 20 minutes late and I was panicking I wouldn’t catch my next flight (to my relief, we got out at the gate next to my flight to Jakarta so I just made a turn for another boarding, no chance for toilet break let alone last minute shopping), I was getting more irritated when we were start boarding and everybody just rushed to get into the plane first. People dragged their suitcases and elbowed everyone else like somehow their seat were about to be stolen if they didn’t get there first. The same thing happened during custom clearance queue. I mean how difficult is it to give more personal space for the person in front of them? Why is it s/he had to stand so close, breathing onto my neck I could hear or smell them? And when the person before me got his/her turn, the person behind me pushed me straightaway to be as close as possible to the custom desk.

But the worst thing happened when I got to my apartment. No one cares to hold the door or the elevator. No one cares to wait until the people inside the lift get out first. And if I do hold the door no one realises it, let alone say thank you! There were several cases when the lift was full of people I was stuck in the corner and couldn’t reach the button, and I had to ask before someone offered to push the button for me.

The people I mentioned above are what we call rich, well educated Indonesians (my flight from Singapore was full of Indonesian business people complete with suits and laptops, and my apartment is full of university students who could afford to live in apartment rather than sharing room or kost). But somehow the etiquette lesson got lost in between their busy schedule, fancy dress, and frightening titles. No one bothers to say “please” or “thank you” to the always-cheery flight attendants, or the apartment officer whose job is to open the car door (I suppose he is the greeter).

Sadly on the contrary, those people always smile and very polite, and they look like they always smile from the heart. From the lost luggage officer and the SQ airport staff in Jakarta airport who apologised for my inconvenience (not their fault!), to the receptionist who could maintain her smile listening to the tenants’ queries while being effective calling cabs and receiving letters at the same time. It breaks my heart to see them trying their best, suppress their own emotion while the customer barking rudely.

A simple ‘thank you’ (terima kasih) and ‘please’ (mohon or tolong) are small gestures that matters a lot. Please do say that to those who assist you, no matter how small it is.

Thank you.

Further reading:

• Etiquette
• RSVP

It’s a hot topic amongst Santas around the world. No, we’re not talking about well-groomed Santas with 6-pack tummies (so the red outfit can look better on them) and trendy stubbles rather than long beardie. Santas now have to start paying attention to their… err… laughter, because it could offend women.

clipped from news.sky.com Sacked Santa’s Ho Ho Ho Blow A Santa working in an Australian department store has claimed he was sacked for saying “ho ho ho” because it could offend women. Jolly Santas may offend Employment company Westaff, which supplies shops with their own red-robed Father Christmas, had earlier asked its Santas not to use the phrase. It claimed that as the word “ho” is American slang for whore, it could be offensive to female shoppers. Santas were advised to say “ha ha ha” instead.

Click here for the complete news.

If you think being a Santa is easy, you should think again. There’s more jobs rather than having kids on laps, laugh (but no ho ho ho!), and grooming white long beard. Skynews reporter went to the oldest Santa training school in Michigan, USA, to unwrap Santa’s secrets. There they will get tips how to look good in red tight suits, how to sing, learn the sleigh riding, and also how to handle unexpected questions from innocent kids like:

Kids: Santa, did the elves make all the toys in North Pole?
Santa: Yes, they do.
Kids: Then why do I have Made in China stamped on mine?

Don’t laugh. A graduate from this school can secure a job and make £10,000 (that’s USD 20,000!) in 6 weeks. Not bad from some guy from North Pole who only works once a year, eh?

I received Eastern Promise newsletter update this morning. Something caught my eyes and I stopped scrolling when I nearly reached the bottom page. I blinked. Again. And again. Probably I was dreaming. But no. The half-naked lady picture was still there.

Stop drooling. It’s not me, obviously. It’s the teaser or promotion of the upcoming calendar for Bugil’s, Eastern Promise (EP), Cazbar, De Hooi and One Tree bars. The girls in the calendar are the barmaids.

Bugil’s has been producing calendar every year for several times now. Usually they pick one theme and the barmaids will pose with skimpy clothes according to the theme. Last year the theme was sport, so the barmaids (which are now coming from not only Bugil’s but also from the other bars) put some skimpy sport clothes on and posed as if they played football, boxing, etc.

Usually Stuart bought the calendar (he’s such a loyal customer, he bought everything that Bugil’s sales, including T-shirts - he’s got many, Bart’s Bule Gila book - he bought one for himself, one for me, and God knows how many for people he knows, and Stroopwafels - sometimes we still bought them in Starbucks - yes, people, they supply stroopwafels to Starbucks and other several coffee houses - even though we could buy the same thing from Bugil’s/EP/Caz for much cheaper price). And usually when he’s back to Scotland he would bring several for his friends here. Last year, he brought at least 7 calendars back home, one must be sent by post because the guy doesn’t live in Aberdeen.

It’s a big deal for all guys here. First because you don’t get such treatments from barmaids here like in Bugils, EP, or Caz, where barmaids remember you, know you by first name, remember what your favorite drink is, and put up with your tantrum/weird behavior/strange fetish. In here you must fight to get attention from the barmaids, and sometimes even though you stand right in front of them, frantically waving your money at them, they will still be doing something else and you must wait patiently to get served (try to shout and you’d be kicked out). Secondly, the barmaids in Bugil’s group are much prettier. They’re young (usually in their twenties), they have great bodies, they are crazy, and they dress to impress (if they remember to put it on). In here you’d get old grannies, grumpy young ladies, or worst, guys (not to me obviously, guys barmen are such a sight for sore eyes. Ha!). Thirdly, they’re trained to be flirty and overtly friendly to male customers (Indonesian ladies are not big drinkers, therefore it’s useless to put some George Clooney lookalike at the bar). So having young, perky, pretty, friendly, sexy barmaids served you is like a dream come true. Having them posed for you every month is like living in heaven.

I don’t mind with sexy calendars. After living in Scotland for several months I’ve quickly found out that nakedness is natural thing and not a taboo subject. TV shows will comfortably feature people being naked (I think it’s a European thing. American TV shows, however, will show violence in great details but won’t even show breasts, something that I think Indonesian TV industry adapts heavily). The tabloid The Sun, owned by the media godfather Rupert Murdoch, features top-half naked girl everyday on Page 3. And there is no age restriction to buy newspapers, so teenage boys with raging hormones could buy it and drool over the Page 3 models.

But half-naked barmaids is a different thing. From the teaser put in EP website, clearly the girl doesn’t have anything on her top half. Ok, she probably wore nipple covers - click here for example how those things work if you have no idea what I am talking about - during photo shoots, but they are not clothes. That’s something girls wear underneath their clothes. And it still doesn’t change the fact that she doesn’t have her top on). Why does it bother me? Because the models are real. They are not just some models we don’t know and can only dream of. They are flesh and blood, only an arms-length distance, performing submissive role (serving), and because it’s a service industry, they will be extra nice and flirty to male customers. So having what guys have imagined so far printed in glossy papers and hang them up in the kitchen or bathroom is too close to reality.

Of course for single guys it wouldn’t be a problem at all. I will encourage all single guys to buy the calendar immediately. I would even buy one for my brother, even though I’ve already bought him Pussycat Dolls calendar.

If your girlfriends/wives’ male personal training posing half naked, parading their 6-packs in skimpy boxers, will you let the pictures of those people you know, who spend at least one hour with your spouse every week up close and personal, gracing your kitchen?

Note: I can predict what’s gonna happen. After seeing the half-naked barmaid ad above, most guys actually will ring Bart to order the calendar and wouldn’t even bother to read my posting…. Typical!

It’s not everyday Donal Trump faces a rejection. But his plan to build a £1 billions (that’s Rp 20 trillions or about one-third of Indonesia State Budget of Revenues and Expenditures!) golf complex and housing development at the Menie Estate in Aberdeenshire was rejected last weekend by Aberdeenshire Council’s infrastructure committee.

It doesn’t matter that the development could bring £150m to the local economy over the next decade and creating 400 jobs. It doesn’t matter that the reason why Donald Trump chose Scotland in the first place is because he’s half Sottish, while he could choose some other place which would easily say yes to whatever his proposal is.

I‘m sure if this happens in Indonesia the local council will have voted yes even before seeing and reviewing the proposal, just because he is Donald Trump. So, should we suggest Indonesia to Mr.Trump?