The Road to Death

This is our home in Batangas. And this road in front of it is part of the national highway connecting the Batangan towns of Lemery and Balayan — also known as the Road to Death. This part of the road in the picture is just before the crossing that connects this highway to another highway leading to Tagaytay City in Cavite, and if you go farther, Manila.

Given these facts, you can just imagine how busy it is. When I’m home, I always have to close the windows tight so the noise could not distract me from doing my usual activities comprised mainly of watching TV and err… watching TV. Open the window a little bit and your viewing experience is ruined. This explains why almost every room in our house is air-conditioned.

But the noise is not what makes this part of the road earn its name “The Road to Death.”

The noise is tolerable. It’s been there before us so we have no right to complain. What’s relatively new is the long island in the middle of the road. It was added to this wide street perhaps four years ago, making both of its sides narrower. What they failed to install in addition was a light post. You see, at night, this little road island is invisible. And because it is part of the national highway and may even be the only part of the highway in 5km radius with a concrete island or anything protruding from the ground, motorists are always caught off-guard. Ergo, ACCIDENTS.

As a matter of fact, every time I spend the weekend in our Batangas house (which is every three weeks), I always witness road accidents in this area. The culprit — you bet it’s that damn island. Most of the time, motorcycle drivers fall victim. Sometimes, bigger vehicles. I have seen a truck carrying hundreds of chickens tumble over here. There was even an incident where a truck containing inflammable content having the same fate — my neighbors were all in panic.

Continue reading »

Sundays with the Promil Kid

Guess who’s back! I’m finding it hard to blog about my nephew, the Promil Kid, lately because I rarely see him. He’s staying at my parents’ house in Batangas and I only go there once a month. Anyway, enjoy.

image courtesy of www.cartoonfaces.net

AGNOSTIC KID

The Promil Kid is in a difficult identity situation right now. And years from now, it will require a big decision. You see, his mother (my sister) is a Roman Catholic while his dad is INC (Iglesia ni Cristo). So he goes to church twice a week. I’m agnostic so I couldn’t care less. One time, I was preparing breakfast when he walked in to the kitchen and had a small chat with me.

Yoshke: Where are you going?
Promil Kid: I’m going to church.
Yoshke: But I thought you already went yesterday.
Promil Kid: That was Mommy’s church. Now it’s time for Dad’s church.
Yoshke: Aah, I see.
Promil Kid: Tito, what’s your church?
Yoshke: I don’t have one.
Promil Kid: Huh? Why not?
Yoshke: I’m agnostic. I don’t go to church.
Promil Kid: You’re what?
Yoshke: AG-NOS-TIC
Promil Kid: So in your church, you don’t have to go to church?
Yoshke: Yes.

The Promil Kid then walked away, proceeded to the living area and sat down on the couch. He just stayed there. Minutes later, her mom came down from her room and found him there.

His Mommy: Oh, why are you still here? Your Dad’s waiting for you outside!
Promil Kid: I don’t want to go anymore!
His Mommy: Why not?
Promil Kid: I’m agnostic.

I was already eating my pancakes when my sister threw me a what-the-fuck-did-you-just-tell-him look.  “Well, he asked,” I said as-a-matter-of-fact-ly.

Continue reading »

Mother Like No Other

So I spent my weekend with my family in Batangas. God, if you’re complaining it’s hot here in Manila, it’s way hotter over there. There was never a moment I didn’t agree with Thomas Edison that genius is 99% perspiration. Good thing there was too much food back there, I was always gorging on something — watermelons, green mangoes, buko, ice cream, name it.

It’d been a month since I last visited our house in Batangas but a lot had changed already. One of them was our living room.

My mom bought a sala set two months ago. She fell in love with these brown couches instantly when they dropped by a local furniture store that she bought it without thinking. Satisfied with her purchase, she went home and waited for arrival of her new sala set.

When the set was delivered, however, she realized it was too big for our living area. WAAAY TOO BIG. But she really wanted this set, so screw the little space we have! She did not bother to change her order. So we had a sala set bigger than our sala.

When I arrived, I immediately criticized her impulse buying stint and declared that our sala was officially ugly. Or as the promil kid would say it, “hideous.”

Continue reading »

Do They Read Blogs in Heaven?

Note: Today is my dad’s fifth death anniversary. Allow me to post this.

Whenever I say that the earliest memory I have is the accident wherein I had my left arm somewhat toasted, I lie. My earliest memory is, in fact, months before that.

It was a Saturday morning. I woke up to see the house in complete disarray. It seemed like we had been robbed. But there was no thief. There was only my father, rummaging through the house, looking for something. That time, he had just undergone surgery. He had a nasty liver.

I went out to see a number of people looking at my dad on the roof. He was also searching the roofs. And he kept on yelling, “Where are my millions?” It sounded silly because we were poor and there was no way our family savings could reach the million mark. But my dad kept looking for his “millions.” Take note, “millionS.” Plural.

Continue reading »

The Promil Kid Got Company!

Almost three years ago, just when I thought I could not handle another mischievous kid in the family, God gave us another walking mayhem. Not many of you are aware that I also have a niece. And she’s just as endearing (the kind that you wanna strangle) as my nephew.

My niece is now three years old. She’s called Natalya. My nephew’s name is Yoshke. I gave him that name. He’s now five. For the sake of this blog entry and to avoid confusion, let’s call my nephew Yoshke “Nephew,” and my niece, “Niece.”

Nephew and Niece are seldom in the same place at the same time. You see, they are not siblings. They are cousins. Nephew is my sister’s son while Niece is my brother’s daughter. But whenever they are together, they make a hilarious duo. Nephew is shy but inquisitive. Niece is a star, hence she has a star complex. She is a queen bee in the making. Maldita. Atribida. Echosera.

What happens when they are together?

TWO GLASSES

Other than fighting, one of the activities that they love doing together is drawing. My brother-in-law is a painter. Nephew got that gene. (In fact, he was Best in Art in his batch last year.) One time, I joined them in their crayon-happy session and told them to draw whatever entered my head. I asked them to draw a flower; they did. I asked them to draw a house; they did. I asked them to draw a pencil; they did.

And then I asked them to draw a glass and a plate.

Using a pencil, Nephew did it well. He colored the plate blue (like the real plate he actually uses). And then left the glass colorless. It’s transparent, anyway, so I let it go.

Niece, on the other hand, colored her plate pink. I was about to praise how well she drew the glass when she whipped out a black crayon and scribbled all over it until the glass was almost completely covered.

“WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!?! WHAT’S THAT?” I asked.

“Black gulaman,” was her answer.

TWO MANGOES

The same thing happened when Me-Ann, their tutor, asked them to draw a ripe mango.

Nephew colored it green. “It’s not ripe yet,” he argued. “It will turn yellow later.”

Niece colored hers black. Before their tutor could even ask, she declared, “It’s already rotten.”

Continue reading »

The Promil Kid Goes to Church

It’s been really, really difficult to feature my nephew here lately. I seldom see him since I visit Batangas once every three weeks. But finally, I have collected enough anecdotes under one theme. All it took was a little trip to Antipolo!

BLOOD OF CHRIST

When I visit Batangas, one of the tasks that I need to do is to accompany my nephew to church. At first, I was hesitant to do this because I’m agnostic and I don’t believe in religion. However, since no one actually knows about this side of mine, I don’t really have a choice.

His dad is not Catholic so he won’t take him. Other members of the family attend the 6am mass, too early and too cold for a toddler. So the burden is passed on to me every time and I pretend I enjoy the priest’s homily and endure the physical workout that is kneeling and standing every now and then..

It’s interesting to go to church with an inquisitive kid. For one, I am always careful not to mention my beliefs (or the lack thereof). His mother wants him to be raised a faithful Catholic, hence the Catholic school and his obsession to Sto. Nino.

One Sunday morning at the local church:

Nephew: Are priests drunkards?
Yoshke: Well, it’s wine. It’s healthy.
Nephew: I’m not allowed to drink wine.
Yoshke: That’s because you are a kid.
Nephew: When I grow up, I too will drink wine in front of many people.
Yoshke: No, it’s not like that. Weren’t you listening to the priest? The wine symbolizes the blood of Christ.
Nephew: The wine is the blood of Jesus’?

He looked at the statue hanging at the end of the church. It’s an image of Jesus Christ, nailed on the cross, soaked in blood. He stared at it for what was like 10 seconds and turned to me.

Nephew: Why would they want to drink that?

He began scratching his head. And I answered, “I have no idea.”

THE OLD MAN ON TV!

Last Sunday, my family and I went to the Our Lady of Peace and Good Voyage in Antipolo City, Rizal. The entire time I was with my nephew. My sister and the rest of the family went inside the church and insisted that my nephew be left with me since the place was already crowded and other devotees chose to stay outside anyways. There were TV screens outside the church so the ones outside could see the priest and what was happening inside.

I was shocked when he asked, “Tito, can we switch that to Cartoon Network? The old man is boring.”

JUST CAN’T WAIT

“Tito, is it over yet? Let’s go to Enchanted Kingdom now!”

It had only been 10 minutes but my nephew was already itching to go to Enchanted Kingdom in Laguna, which was next in our itinerary.

Yoshke: Well, we need to finish the mass before we could go.
Nephew: How long is this going to take?
Yoshke: Like usual. Less than an hour.
Nephew: (sad face) Why do we have to go through this?
Yoshke: We just need to.
Nephew: Why?
Yoshke: Because you won’t be allowed to enter Enchanted Kingdom without listening to the priest telling you that you have sinned.
Nephew: Why?
Yoshke: Because!
Nephew: Why?!?! (just about to throw tantrums)
Yoshke: You see that lady <points to a figure of Mama Mary in front of the church>. Well, that’s Our Lady of Enchanted Kingdom! If you don’t stay here longer, she’ll know. You won’t like that.

He behaved like an angel.

Continue reading »

We Grew Over It, Didn’t We?

When I was young, my mum and my sister fed me ideas that I ingested and digested until I realized I had been Punk’d.

Wag ka lulunok ng buto ng santol, tutubo yan sa loob ng katawan mo.

I understand the intention. But hey, I actually bought that. I even went telling my classmates about it and discouraged them from taking in seeds of santol or any other fruit. And so eating watermelon suddenly became a painstaking activity. And dirty, too.

Imagine how horrified we felt knowing we had eaten a lot of guava fruits before. At tangena lang. Subukan mong wag kainin ang buto nun.

I believed it until the tiny little organ in my head called brain acquired information that it was impossible for a plant to actually grow inside the human body. But hey, I was just a boy.

I know I’m not alone. For sure, your parents have told you a lot of scary, traumatizing things that turned out to be untrue and utterly stupid.

• Matulog ka sa hapon kundi hindi ka tatangkad.
• Pag nabungi ka, kelangan mong ibaon sa lupa yung ngipin. O di kaya, itapon mo sa bubong. Para tubuan ka ulit ng isa pang ngipin.
• Wag ka matutulog ng basa ang buhok, mababaliw ka. Or mabubulag ka. (Depende sa nanay mo.)
• Wag ka kakain ng itlog bago mag-exam kundi zero ang score mo.
• Wag ka maglalaro pag Mahal na Araw kasi patay ang Dyos. Pag nagkasugat ka, hindi gagaling yan. May lalabas na pari at kanin sa sugat mo.
• Wag mo ituturo ang rainbow, mapuputol ang daliri mo.
• Wag ka magpapahakbang sa ibang tao, hindi ka na tatangkad. Pag nahakbangan ka na, kailangan balikan ka nya.
• Wag ka magsisinungaling, hahaba ilong mo. (Thanks Pinnochio for the inspiration.)
• Wag ka magta-tanga-tangahan. Pag nahipan ka ng masamang hangin, magiging permanente yan.
• Wag ka magne-nailcutter pag gabi kasi parang sinusumpa mo yung magulang mo. (Huh?)
• Wag ka magne-nailcutter pag Biyernes, may mamamatay.

Kumusta naman! Andami ko nang napatay! Baka ako pa yung dahilan nung 9/11! Nag-nailcutter kasi ako the night before! Haha.

ANLABO! Pero aminin nyo, one time in your life, you actually believed at least one of these.

Last week, I just told my nephew that if he kept on having fried chicken every meal, he’d turn into a big chicken.

Pasa-pasa lang yan. Pagkakataon ko na gumanti. Mwahaha.
*image courtesy of  bbc.co.uk

Tits and Toes

“Isn’t Dad enough? Isn’t Dad enough?”

Whenever I’d face God for a little conversation, this was all I could tell him. “Isn’t Dad enough?” And in between words were cries of anger and sighs of disappointment.

But now, after the successful surgery yesterday and knowing that cancer never really hit second base, my prayers are composed of two words. “Thank you.”

I already lost a parent to cancer, I won’t give up the other to the same killer. Never.

…

Dear cancer,

You failed to get my mother. Just her boobs. Enjoy.

We won.

Now, fuck off and stay away from my family.

Pfffffbt!

…

On the way to my apartment last Tuesday morning, I suddenly became the victim of a hit-and-run somewhere along Kamuning Road. It wasn’t a major accident but DAMN.

My left foot got run over by a black car. (Was I cursing in Arabic?)

My left arm was also hurt. Got a wound on my elbow.

Failed to see the plate number. It was fast. Asshole driver. The light was RED!

But I believe in Karma. And I know there’ll be damnation for the driver. I am leaving it up to St. Peep Peep, the patron saint of hit-and-run victims.

…

I was climbing the stairs to the North Avenue Station of MRT yesterday morning when I tripped on my toe and fell almost flat on my tummy. My face on the floor.

Cue: “Clumsy coz I’m falling in looove…” (Fergie)

But I won’t blame love really. Blame the frakkin’ driver of the frakkin’ car that ran over my frakkin’ foot.

…

Oh, allow me to be a bit narcissistic, answer my FriendTest. Hehehe.

And please help me do my job well. Answer the POLL question of the week on the sidebar. It’s work-related. Thank you very much.

My foot still hurts. Dammit.
*image courtesy of gannsdeen.com, risintide.org.uk

The Promil Kid Goes to School

I’ve been sick since Monday. Tonsilitis again. Last year, I had this seven (or eight?) times. Gaaaah. Told ya, the relationship between infections and my tonsils is almost romantic. They love each other sooo much, they might elope in the near future. But if there’s any consolation, I’m losing weight FAST! Yay for that.

Anyway… Guess who’s back!!!

BECAUSE TEPID RAIN ISN’T FROM HEAVEN

One night, I was in the middle of a barren land. A few months before, it was a cane field. Then my childhood started playing in my head again. This was were my brother and I ran kites. This was were my friends and I played softball. This was were I used to kick my football around on. But this time was different. It was a cold evening. And it was raining. And I was happy. I haven’t walked in the rain in a long, long time.

Something was wrong, though. The water was warm.

And I woke up. It was a dream. I opened my eyes. And there was my nephew. Standing on the bed. Peeing. Sleep-peeing. On me.

Cue: Abba, “…I’ll cross the stream. I have a dream….”

BECAUSE GLOATING IS FUN

If there’s one thing that my nephew didn’t get from me, that’s shame. I have always had a strong sense of shame since I was a baby. (Yeah, I never made dede in public. Haha. Weh?)

My nephew, on the other hand, does what he wants when he wants it. Like dozing off. NEVER have I ever slept at the workplace or at school. But my nephew, gaah, his classroom is his bedroom. He finds it comfy. And no matter how hard his Teacher Janna tries, he always uses Science class hour for his nap time.

So when his first Periodic Exam came last August (?), I was a little scared for him. When we passed the gates of his school, he was greeted by many of his classmates’ parents with disheartening remarks. One of them even asked my nephew sarcastically, “Oh, how are you gonna pass this test when you always sleep your way through the classes?”

I couldn’t reply. Wait there, you old hag; I’ll come up with a sinister, condescending comment, I thought. But I couldn’t. No condescending comment was thrown. I was not sure how he was gonna make through this exam, either.

When the exam was over, I asked my nephew how it was. He shrugged, “It’s okay.”

The next day, I was waiting for my nephew’s class to finish. Apparently, the papers had been checked and the results were out.

Continue reading »

Protected: Am I Nuts or What?