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 neighbourhood.

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.

…

Related Posts:
Never Mess With Kids (Especially Promil Kids)
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

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, 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 sexuality. 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 lower 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.)
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

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 one morning. And there he was, sitting on the floor, smashing a scientific 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 embarrassed 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!”

Pictures courtesy of mysimon.com, istockphoto.com and cartoon-secrets.com

Status: Tonsilitis… Waaaah!
Music: I’m Just a Kid – Simple Plan

WHO’S TO BLAME?

This happened more than a year ago, you can see the original post here. I was with my then 2-year old nephew in my mum’s room when I accidentally broke the lamp on the side table. Of course, the only witness was my dear nephew. So I decided to talk to him.

Yoshke: When they ask you who broke that, you say MIMI (name of his cat). Understand?
Nephew: *nod*
Yoshke: Yaya (the maid) forgot to close the door so Mimi entered, sat on the side table, and broke the lamp. Understand?
Nephew: *nod*
Yoshke: Who entered the room?
Nephew: Mimi!
Yoshke: Who sat on the side table?
Nephew: Mimi!
Yoshke: Who broke the lamp?
Nephew: Tito (Uncle)!
Yoshke: Who broke the lamp?
Nephew: Tito!
Yoshke: Mimi!
Nephew: Tito!

The poor kid did not have any chocolate for the rest of the day. Nyahahaha. Child abuse, anyone?

# # #

HE WAS RIGHT, ANYWAY

Last night, when I came home, I forgot to close the gate. My nephew, now 3, was playing on the porch.

Nephew: Tito! Close the gate! What if my ball went over there and I would fetch it. I might get hit by a car.
Yoshke: So don’t go out!
Nephew: But I’m a kid. I don’t know what I do.

Yeah, right. I shut the gate.

# # #

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

Most of the time, my nephew and I get along really well. And the times when there are chocolate bars in the fridge are not one of them. We always end up fighting about who gets what. And it’s agreed upon that Snickers bars are mine like it has always been. So a couple of months ago, when my nephew was throwing tantrums, I was pissed that he wanted my Snickers. I mean, whaaat? Those were mine.

But being a kid, of course, he could get away with it. And I was the one scolded for acting like a kid. But I’m sure you get me. Those bars were mine! Mine! Mine!

So when my nephew was climbing up the stairs to his room, displaying the bars of Snickers, mocking me (I was lying in the couch), I prayed, “Oh God, please, do anything so I could have those Snickers. ANYTHING.”

Seconds later, my nephew lost his balance and came crashing down the stairs. I was appalled and befuddled. The blood all over the floor made it hard for me to move (coz I’m extremely afraid of blood). My brother hurriedly approached my nephew and drove to the hospital.

I didn’t go with them to the hospital. When the maid asked me what happened, I couldn’t utter a word. I was feeling incredibly guilty. Besides, I really couldn’t talk because my mouth was full. Of Snickers bars. The bloody kid left them on the floor.

Picture courtesy of newciv.org

Status: Horneee
Music: Overload – Sugababes

I just received this anecdote from a friend, who had read this somewhere. And it made me realise how fun Tagalog really is as a language.

I was in the elevator with an American. We were going down to the ground floor, but before reaching it, we stopped at the 4th floor. It opened to a Filipino.

She asked me, “Bababa ba?”

I replied, “Bababa.”

In she went. Upon closing of the door, the American asked curiously, “I’m sorry. Did you guys just have a conversation?“

A’right. To all my non-Filipino readers, I’m gonna explain this to you. “Bababa” is the tagalog word for “going down.” And to change any noun, pronoun, verb, adverb, or adjective to a question, all you have to do is add “ba.” Of course, a question mark and the proper intonation go with it.

She: “Bababa ba?” (Going down?)
Me: “Bababa.” (Going down.)

There. Though they might have sounded like they were trying to mimic goats/sheep, they actually had a conversation. Hehehe. Ahlove’t.  (more…)

Status: Anxious
Music: Big Girls Don’t Cry – Fergie

On domestic news, my mum is being annoyingly hardheaded these days. For months now, she’s been complaining about the lumps on her breasts but never really mustered enough courage to see a doctor and once and for all know what it was until last week. Because there seemed to be no reputable hospital or competent physician to take care of her here in Lemery (as far as my mum is concerned), and on my cousin’s advice, she travelled to Lipa City for a series of tests.

A week later, she learnt what it really was. But until now, she wouldn’t tell us the findings. And I’ve been sick worried trying to figure out if it’s cyst, tumor, or cancer. She won’t let us know. What’s with the suspense? All she said was that she would face it herself — alone. And that’s she was encouraged to undergo a surgery. But my mum refuse to let the doctors operate on her. Insists she’s not ready and will not be anytime soon.

Damn it. They say ignorance is bliss. But this is something I need to know. I already lost my dad to cancer. It will never claim the only parent I have left. Not again.

Status: Exhausted
Music: Breakdown - Mariah Carey (Ate Mimi) feat Bone Thugs

Today is my first niece’s first birthday, and right now they are having a huge party at our place. My niece’s name is Mika Natalia, daughter of my brother. Like my first nephew Yoshke (yes, after myself — sort of), it was me who gave my niece that name but it was a little modified. It should’ve been Mischa Natalya (Russian) but because my sister-in-law didn’t like Mischa, she changed it to Mika — thus, Mika Natalia. Almost parallel to what happened with Yoshke (my nephew, not me). I was asked by my sister to come up with a good name and I offered her Asher Yoshke (Jewish). But my brother in law didn’t like Asher so he changed it to Asheq — ergo, Asheq Yoshke. Gawd, I hate my in-laws. Hahaha. But I’m not gonna talk about that any longer.

It was my first day of my review classes in Ateneo de Manila University last Saturday. I entered the classroom wanting to become a diplomat. When I left that room, the feeling was different. I just don’t want it, I NEED IT. I need to be a diplomat and I will be.

It was really fun. I liked the feeling of waking up early worried about being late. And just like an ordinary / regular first day of school, I was happy making new friends, learning new stuff, and being able to express myself. Not to mention our ambassador-speakers were very cool. Pretty ancient (I mean, old) but still very cool. Lov’em. I learnt enormous amount of information and knowledge from them. They were opinionated (and yes, very politically inclined) yet I could sense how much they really love this country and value the Constitution.

I was a little disappointed, though. I didn’t know that we would be divided into two sections. I think putting us all together in the same room would be much more enjoyable. More classmates, more friends, more fun. There were also more female reviewees. You could just imagine how that made me feel. I felt sooo sad. Haha, just kidding. It really did not matter. There were no cute hommes, anyway (oh yes, that’s another disappointment, hehe).

As usual, I was very timid on the first day so I wouldn’t approach anyone. I just sat there, listened, and took down notes. But after a while, I couldn’t keep it; I just had to release the perky me so I approached my seat mate Helen, very pretty, a UP grad as well, and also very timid, and we started to get along.

Although from the very start, I’ve been aware that there’s not much money in the field of Foreign Service, I was so surprised (more like amazed) with the priveleges and immunities of diplomats that one speaker discussed. Here are a few of them:

[1] They don’t pay taxes.
[2] Their diplomat bags when travelling are not required to go through inspection no matter what happens.
[3] Ambassadors cannot be arrested or detained (in the receiving State) regardless of how heinous the crimes they committed are — even rape or murder.

These are because of the amount of trust that states put on other states and their representatives (ambassadors, consuls, diplomats) that most things are never questioned.

My God, if there’s only one thing that You could give me right now, please let me become a diplomat. That’s all. I won’t ask for a mansion, or a bachelor pad, or a Jaguar. Please… please…. Gawd, puhleezz.

Status: Gluttonous
Music: Dangerously in Love - Beyonce

Just like every Holy Week, I did a little visita iglesia yesterday (Good Friday) with my family. Again, I’m not a Christian but my family are. I’ve been schlepping myself lately on the road to Christianity but it’s really hard to force myself to have faith in Jesus Christ again. But so as not to disappoint my mum, I joined my family visit one church after another. It wasn’t that difficult actually, because I usually enjoy travelling. And we do this every year so I kinda get the hang of it.

Our first stop yesterday was Caleruega in Nasugbu, Batangas. This is one of my favourite churches — I like it better than the gigantic Basilica of San Martin de Tours in Taal. Maybe because of its location. Caleruega is on top of a hill. Very windy. Lots of flowers. More like a park than a church, actually.

Anyway, there was nothing spectacular that happened yesterday… other than Dennis Trillo was there, saying his prayers with us, in the same chapel. It was funny because I knew everyone recognised him yet no one, even the people nearest him, dared to approach him because hey, we were there to pray to God and not worship some star.

But damn, he was really cute.

*photo courtesy of imagesphilippines.com