Exactly a month ago, I was staying at my brother’s room, watching Pushing Daisies (oh, Lee Pace is just sooo cute I wanna be dead and be touched by him), when my mother came in and said she wanted to talk. Something that never fails to send me to utter discomfort.

Mum: You told your Tita Esther you wanted to study in London?

Tita Esther is my mum’s friend who has just arrived from London. She visited last week and we kinda had a little chat and I kinda told her how much I wanted to study abroad.

Yoshke: Uhm, Er, I might have told her. Yuh.
Mum: You really want to?
Yoshke: Uhm, yeah, a bit.
Mum: Well, you may. I’m letting you.

(more…)

A grim incident has transformed our home into a mini-hospital. The air inside the house is perfumed with microbicides and alcohol. Trash bins are brimming with used bandages and cotton balls. Rooms are adorned with antibiotics and painkillers lying around. The coffee table is covered with CT scan results and X-Ray plates. And almost every day, visitors come pouring in with foods and gifts.

Yes, our house has suddenly become a hospital. This is because last Tuesday, almost a mile away from our house, there was a horrible road accident.

My mother, my brother and a maid were in it.

Fortunately, everyone is fine now.

I hate it when my friends talk about Bioman. Why? Because I can’t relate. I can’t remember even a single moment I watched Bioman. I don’t know what their powers were and what they could do. I don’t know its theme song, either. I remember Shaider, Ultraman, Koseidon, He-Man, She-Ra, Conan the Barbarian, Maskman, and Power Rangers. But Bioman? Nah. Na-uh. Nadah. Not really.

Funny because my earliest childhood memory was when I was 3 years old. (I’m 22; born 1986.) I remember a lot. As in A LOT. There is a myriad of vivid childhood images that I always play in my head. Sadly, none of those images are Bioman’s. Maybe because I didn’t watch it at all. You see, I’ve always been choosy. Haha.

Another kiddie TV classic that I just can’t remember watching? Batibot. Seriously. I don’t have any emotional connection to the show, Pong Pagong, Kuya Bodjie or Ate whoever-she-was. Every time I try to rummage through my thoughts and search for a bit of any Batibot-related memory, what I always find is ATBP (Awit, Titik, Bilang na Pambata) — Trisha, Rex, Carlo, Tito Miguel (Piolo Pascual), and that ridiculous Kapitan Bilang. No Batibot.

You might be thinking that I missed a great deal of my childhood and how great a loser I was when I was a kid for not watching these programs. But I think I had a childhood that many would envy. It’s just that TV wasn’t really that fun for me that time. Fun was outdoors. You see, I was a country boy. Haha. Lumaki ako sa lalawigan ng magigiting (Batangas). Less than a kilometer north of our house are woods and hills; south, a vast field and the beach. TV wasn’t that fun. Fun were the following:

• flying/running kites
• wandering around and playing hide-and-seek in the forest
• climbing trees
• stealing fruits from some farmer’s orchard
• shooting birds with a slingshot (I was cruel as a kid)
• hunting spiders for fights on stick
• catching fireflies and grasshoppers
• catching salagubang (June beetle), cutting its legs one by one, and letting it fly while tied to my wrist

Those were my definition of fun even after I was introduced to Sarah, Cedie, Remi, Julio, Julia, Mary, Romeo, another Remi, Tom, Huck, Cinderella, and the rest of them losers. And then, the magnificent world of violent anime. Haha. Starting with Sailormoon. (Er, okay, violent gay anime. Haha.) Zenki, B’t X and Thunder Jet soon followed. And then, the wacky Mojacko and Doraemon.

And oh, I remember being addicted to Superbook and Flying House. Thanks to my Catholic upbringing.

And yeah, right now I just miss my childhood.

Mumbling: I wanna saint your mother just for giving you birth…
Humming: If That’s Okay With You - Shayne Ward
Related Posts: Never Mess With Promil Kids | The Promil Kid Strikes Back | The Promil Kid Strikes Back Again

Utterly famished, I went straight to the kitchen swearing that I would gorge on the first food that I would see. I rummaged through the refrigerator and found a pack of jumbo Tender Juicy hotdogs. I grabbed a pan, greased it, and cooked the lovely hotdogs sending a greatly delightful smell up to my room where my 3-year old nephew was staying.

Soon after, I heard my nephew’s footsteps as he ran down the stairs.

“Tito, are those my hotdogs?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“You’re bad. You didn’t tell me you would cook my hotdogs. Those are mine. I hate you. You didn’t ask for my permission.”

“Oh okay. Sorry.”

He just stood at the kitchen door. Not feeling guilty whatsoever, I just continued cooking his hotdogs. After minutes, I noticed that he was still standing there looking at me. I began feeling uncomfortable. I looked at him again, and he was still giving me that I-hate-you look. No, it was the I-really-hate-you look.

So, out of total discomfort, I faced him and said sarcastically, “Fine. Can I have some of your hotdogs?”

He answered, “Sure.” Then, he ran upstairs back to my room.

Ampotah, ganun lang pala kadali kausap yun?

# # #

My sister bought my nephew a full Batman costume for the Halloween. That’s one of my major influences on him. He doesn’t like Superman or Spiderman, he adores Batman. And that’s nice.

He excitedly grabbed the costume and wore it right away. We were pleased to see that it fit him perfectly. However, he did not want to take it off. It would’ve been nice but it happened two weeks before the Halloween. But since he was throwing tantrums every time we would mention taking it off, we just let him play around in that fancy Batman costume with some kids in the neighborhood.

Ignoring the heat and the sultry atmosphere, he wore that costume all day long. He was really in love with it that even when he had dinner and watched his favourite cartoon shows, he was still wearing it. Finally, bedtime. He still wouldn’t take it off.

So I said, “You know what? Since you like pretending to be Batman, why don’t you sleep upside down with your feet glued to the ceiling?”

He pouted and answered, “Tito, I’m Batman. I’m not a bat.”

Tama nga naman.

…

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The Promil Kid Strikes Back
The Promil Kid Strikes Back. Again.
image courtesy of amazon.com

Status: Wish I’ve done a little bit more
Music: Should Woulda Coulda - Beverly Knight

Wow, I realise that it’s taking me too long to update my blog lately. It’s been a very busy week and it makes me happy. Hehe. Aside from my day job, Tonet and I were able to close a screenwriting deal with an independent film producer. This would be the second full-length script that I sold. If I would continue being able to sell screenplays at the rate I’m going, I wouldn’t even need a day job. So you see, busy means money. Yum, yum.

Anyway, I noticed that it’s been a while since I last talked about my favourite topic in the world: myself. So since most of my readers don’t know me personally, let me tell you a few craps about myself.  

… (more…)

Status: He aint gonna…
Music: Beautiful Girls - Jojo | Lovestoned - Justin Timberlake
Related Posts: Never Mess With Promil Kids | The Promil Kid Strikes Back

I was lying in my bed beside my 3-year-old nephew when he, out of the blue, asked me, “Tito (uncle), do you have a girlfriend?”

“No,” I answered. “Why?”

“I have a girlfriend.”

“You? Really? What’s her name?”

“Tanya. She’s my classmate.”

Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Andre. He was with Dohna and they were asking me if I could hang out with them. Sadly, I was in Batangas so I had to beg off.

After I hung up, my nephew asked, “Your girlfriend?”

“No. It was my friend Andre.”

“Your girlfriend’s name is Andre?”

“Nope. Andre is just a friend. And he’s a boy.”

He looked at me, discombobulated. “Your girlfriend is a boy?”

Ay ewan ko sa’yo. Bahala kang bata ka.

# # #

Two weeks ago, everyone in the family, except me, was having the hardest time dealing with “sore eyes” (pinkeye). Including my nephew. I noticed that he was always scratching his bloodshot red eyes while doing his homework.

“Don’t scratch your eyes. It’ll get redder and redder.” I told him.

“It’s OK. I like red.” He answered as he continued scratching his eyes so hard.

“No, you don’t. You like blue. You never liked red.”

He looked at me, wondering dumbly, “Tito, how do I turn my eyes blue?”

“You can’t.”

He gave me a disappointed look and said, “I like red.” And then he began scratching his eyes again.

# # #

I woke up last Sunday and found my nephew in the living area holding a microphone attached to the mini-component system. My nephew knows how to operate our DVD player, VCR, TV, and everything else. Seeing him, I was shocked and annoyed at the same time. It seemed to me that he was also the one who plugged it into the socket. What if he was electrocuted while plugging it in? I was responsible for him. He could’ve died and I was still upstairs, in dreamland. Infuriated at that moment, I swore I would give him the most terrible nagging he would ever receive from anyone. I was just about to shout at him when he spoke on the microphone so sweetly. “Good morning, Tito. I love you.”

I gave him the tightest and warmest hug, instead.

# # #

At my dad’s third death anniversary dinner party, I was trapped in a conversation with my family about not having a girlfriend lately. No one in my family knows about the recent change in my gender. Hehehe. It’s been more than two years since I last introduced a girlfriend to them and they were bugging me why I seemed to be not bringing someone home for them to know personally. I just told them that I was busy trying to build a career in the diplomatic field. Fortunately for me, they bought it. They stopped asking and turned quiet. Parang may dumaan na anghel. Whew. Thank God.

Suddenly, my nephew broke the silence. “Tito said that his girlfriend is a boy.”

Oh.My.Gawd. I almost dropped my fork. My jaw would have gone with it.

# # #

Oh by the way, I am selling a 3-year-old boy. He’s smart, and cute, and incredibly talkative. Name your price. Anyone interested? Hehehe.

(Nah, I love my nephew.)

Related Posts:
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images courtesy of bookofmormonposters.com

Status: Reminiscin’
Music: By Your Side - Sade; Adia - Sarah Mclachlan

Note: This was originally posted on my previous blog last year. I just want to repost this because today is my dad’s third death anniversary.

Exactly a couple of years ago (now three), I lost my dad to liver cancer. Hmmm… Too bad I’m still here in the city while everyone in the family is in the province having a little dinner, perhaps.

Last week, there was a big yellow butterfly on a glass window pane in my room. I heard my mum tell me, “That’s your dad, checking if we’re okay.”

Since childhood, I have always considered that idea absurd. You know, that our departed loved ones’ souls sometimes visit us in another form — butterfly, moth, dove — it’s rubbish. But since my dad passed away, a big yellow butterfly always comes to our sweet abode as soon as September starts. It’s weird. Err… I’m not saying I believe that now.

But on Monday night, I woke up terribly freaked out because I had something on my right hand. I thought it was a small lizard or something. In utter shock, I made the eewy thing go away, but it was so stubborn so I hit the window pane with the same hand. Yuck. When I turned the lights on, I realised it was that big yellow butterfly that had always been in my room since the month began. In other words, I broke the window pane. And the butterfly, crushed dead.

The next morning, my mum asked me, “Oh, where is your dad (referring to that yellow butterfly)?”

And so I answered, “Err… I think I killed him last night.”

Poor daddy.

Edit: I had to delete the second half of this entry — the part about my lovelife. It just reminds me of something bitter whenever I see it. So there.
-pic courtesy of cheesebyhand.com
*with apologies to Sarah Mclachlan (Adia)

Status: Famished
Music: Lil L.O.V.E. - Bone Thugs N Harmony feat Mariah Carey

Related post, click here. | I didn’t realise how obsessed my 3-year old nephew had become with Cartoon Network (particularly Dexter’s Laboratory) until I entered MY room and found him sitting on the floor smashing a calculator on the wall, thinking he could fix it afterwards. When I opened the door, he turned to me and angrily hollered: “Tito (uncle), get out of my laboratory!!!”

This is bad, I thought. He thinks he’s Dexter and this is his laboratory. I knew I had to do something about it.

So I looked at him and bellowed, “Excuse me, kid! This is MY laboratory! Get out of MY laboratory.”

Bloody kid. I am Dexter!!!

# # #

My nephew is the only pupil at his school (a community pre-school) who can speak English so fluently. That’s because we train him at home. We always encourage force the kid to answer in English when asked in English. And because when he’s with his playmates, he speaks Tagalog (our native language), we make sure that he talks in English at home.

So what happens when he fails to respond in English? I usually give him “the look” — you know, the kind of look that our parents used to give us when we were little to let us know that we were doing something bad and that we must stop it right at that moment. Whenever my nephew realises he’s being given the look, he switches to English immediately.

Last week, I was shopping at a local mall with my nephew. He said he wanted a kiddie drum set. So we entered Toy Kingdom and began looking for one. A sales crew approached us and showed us two gorgeous sets: yellow and blue. The sales crew and I shared the same thought that the yellow one was better (but yeah, a little more expensive). But my nephew seemed to have made up his mind already.

“I like the blue one.”

But the sales crew was being persistent.

“I told you I like the blue one. I hate yellow!”

The sales crew was astonished by how my nephew speaks in English faultlessly. So he talked to the kid in English, “But this one is better.”

My nephew, being his usual self — stubborn and annoying — began shouting. “I said I don’t like yellow! It’s hideous!!!”

Even I was surprised to hear the word “hideous.” That’s a very big word for a 3-year old Filipino kid. So I asked my nephew, “Do you know what hideous means?”

“Yeah. Like him.” He pointed at the sales crew and turned to me again. “He’s hideous.” He said as-a-matter-of-fact-ly.

I felt embarassed for the sales crew. So to tell my nephew he was doing something bad, I gave him the look.

His eyes narrowed. His brows met. Confused, he protested, “That was English!”

Related post: Never Mess with Kids (Especially Promil Kids)
Pictures courtesy of mysimon.com and cartoon-secrets.com

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