As all my friends know, I'm a 100% kentang.

So if I ever have kids, does that make them kentang kia?

But I'm kentang what, so must translate to kentang terms:

My kids in the future will thus be french fries. And I'll probably be the baked potato. [Because the potato would have been 'cooked' ;) ]

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Anyway, for various reasons, this fat baked potato of a kentang has been getting gradually interested in China, especially during the Cultural Revolution period.

It's a fascinating period for several reasons:

1) The enforced conformity of the citizens, and the repression of desire that arises. When the govt determines how you work, where you live, and when you marry, what does that do for the wishes and desires of the people?

2) The elevation of status of the Mao, from once-guerilla leader fighting for all the ordinary workers and people, to All-Around God above petty peons Whose Every Whim Must Be Obeyed.

3) The ferocity of the Red Guards and Mao Thought Propaganda Teams [I'm guessing this last moniker is directly translated from the Chinese], personal bulldog troops of the All Around God who were swift in exacting severe punishment to any infringement of their All Around God And Leader.

and lastly,

4) The similiarities between the Cultural Revolution, as seen above, and the modern day workplace, especially in places like Yenn's and mine.

Power to the People!

Again, this has been a week of nothing to blog about. [nothing that would not potentially get me sued by my employer anyway] so Quet has suggested I blog my version of what happened to her car on July 6. Since I don't think I'll be sued by Quet for this, here goes:

We just had the usual dinner and drinks and had actually decided on an early retirement home. So as usual, Quet sent Yenn home and she, Candle and I were on the car driving down the ECP towards Candle's house.

This is when it happened. As the car cruised along the expressway, it coughed, sputtered, died, and then literally cruised along. As Quet tried to direct the car towards a breakdown zone, the car ran on nothing but kinetic energy and then finally came to a halt serenely parking itself in the breakdown zone.

Did I mention this was at, like, 1am at night?

Being 3 girls with the combined car-mechanical knowledge of a peanut, we began calling up the men in our lives for SOS. [Our closest bimbo moment] Quet's brother, unluckily, had a car breakdown of his own to settle. -_-! Jules was having supper with his friends. -_-!! Quet's friend had no idea what had happened to her car. -_-!!!!!

Finally it took Quet's dad to come down and rescue us, or rather the car from its comatose state. As this was happening, I got more male attention along the highway than in all my years of being a woman. Witness the number of men who slowed down to look at us, wound down their windows to holler at us but never stopped to offer us, 3 girls along the expressway at 1-2am at night with a broken-down car. -_-!!!!!!!!!

At any rate, when Quet's dad came, even he couldn't start the car, it being really stuck in its automotive coma. Luckily some policemen stopped by and gave us the number to a tow service. And then even luckier, Jules told us he was coming down to rescue Candle and I!

At this point, I would like to blog my heartiest thanks to my fake husband for gallantly driving down at 2am to fetch both his fake wife and mistress home. I only hope the Carl's Jr supper we treated him to was enough thanks.

Finally, Quet's car was carried by EMAS guys to the nearest car park to wait for the tow truck, and Candle and I were off home in Jules' car. Maybe we have been abusing Quet's car too much, what with the drivings to obscure drinking spots in jungled areas...... May I suggest that when the rest of them head off to Bangkok to give thanks for unexpected windfalls, they also donate a little something in the box for the strength and longevity of the car...... ;)