last night i was with some friends at the night cafe, which is actually a guy with a folding table on the sidewalk selling a bunch of "food" downtown until late at night. (i use the term food loosely. deep fried chicken legs were involved.) i was sitting between yohanes (major small town boy) and liz (big city girl from jakarta). for the record, i love them both dearly. while we were eating, i saw a young couple walk by on the street wearing strikingly similar red and black plaid shirts.
me: look! they match! haha!
yohanes: awwww...
me: really? are you serious?
yohanes: what?
me: you think that's sweet??
yohanes: yeah. they like each other so much they want to match.
me: that is lame. why would you want to be with someone who looks just like you?
yohanes: well, i think it's cool that they match. and romantic.
me: i can't believe it. in america, only old people think it's cool to match. and the young people make fun of them for it.
yohanes: liz. look at them. aren't they cute?
liz: *turns to spot them walking by* awwww! so cute! they are matching!
me: yohanes. i hope it's ok with you if we never wear matching clothes.
yohanes: that's fine. you're not my girlfriend.
me: ok. but even if i was, i wouldn't match you.
yohanes: it's your life.
(note: this is an aspect of culture that i've always noticed, but one that has never really clicked before. i see couples matching all the time, especially at weddings or formal events. a couple will often get outfits made from the same fabric. so the wife will have a dress or cute top that totally matches her husband's sports coat or dress shirt. i even saw a couple once with matching mullets. how... precious? i never really realized it IS to them!)
and tonight, yohanes (a different one from the night before) is staying in one of the school dorms to guard it while the dorm parents are out of town. so a bunch of us hung out there and cooked some food. all but yohanes, jefri, and i had gone home by 11, when indra showed up after work.
me: hey, how was work, honey?
indra: it was great... baby?
me: haha.... are you hungry?
indra: yeah.
me: there's noodles in the fridge.
him: what?
me: there's noodles in the fridge.
him: what?
me: there's noodles in the fridge.
him: what?
me: ADA MIE GORENG DI DALAM KULKAS!!
him: hmph.
*he walks over, opens the freezer, and stares into it for a really long time. he eventually closes it and starts walking aimlessly around the room.*
me: did you see the noodles?
him: it's there.
me: no. it's in the fridge. you were looking in the... oh, never mind.... do you want some noodles?
him: very much.
me: ok. they're in the kulkas. right there. *pointing* you can get some.
him: yeah................................ *stares off into space* ..... but they're cold.
me: OBVIOUSLY! oh, my gosh. do you want to eat them? i can memanaskan them for you.
him: ok. sure.
*the noodles were in the fridge in their original pot, so i just threw the whole thing on the stove and started heating it up. as they were nearing finished, 5 minutes later, indra walks over.*
him: why you are doing that?
me: aren't you hungry?
him: yes.
me: and you want these noodles?
him: yes. i have to eat them all? *there were quite a lot left*
me: yes.
him: oooooohhh.
me: i'm just kidding.
him: mmhmm. so why are you doing that, bie?
me: doing WHAT?!
him: cooking.
me: YOU SAID YOU WANT THE DANG NOODLES!
him: yes. i can cook it.
me: i don't think i trust you near the fire right now...
him: ok. thank you.
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