Saturday, January 1, 2011
Filipino Ka Ba?
So you know you're Filipino when you feel that your time is more important than other people's and purposely try to arrive *fashionably* late unawares that your gracious host/brother outsmarted you this time by telling you to come two hours before the party actually started to have you *in house* at the right time (hah!). You single-handedly decimated the "lumpia" which were also meant for the nineteen other guests besides yourself, ooops! Cutlery is optional. Belching is ok - I promise you, no one will so much as bat an eyelash if you did! Ever prolific as a people, there's always a sizable representation from the 0-5 age-group (two of which are yours) at every gathering such as at this one. Your Tita whose thick *Pilipino* accent hasn't diminished one bit from the day she left the old country to live in Canada only some thirty years or so ago, coaxes/cajoles/commands you to eat some more of her special "pish" and "leche plan." Sometime during the course of the evening, when dancing finally gets old after some (very energetic and spasmodic???) cha-cha-cha, salsa, boogie, and swing numbers, someone by the name of either Jojo, Jun-Jun, Boboy or Nonoy conveniently breaks out the karaoke he literally had on his person and of course, after having imbibed a nice drink or two you feign reluctance at first but then after shamelessly hog the microphone for the rest of the night paying no regard to *unwritten* karaoke etiquette, kicking off the show with your excruciatingly shreiky, emotional, earnest and off-key rendition of Avril Lavigne's circa 2003 "I'm With You" - driving even your poor hard of hearing Tito almost to the brink of hara-kiri and the dog skittering up the stairs with its tail tightly tucked between its hindlegs. And finally after downing another drink "for the road" and saying your overly drawn-out melodramatic goodbyes to each and everyone, you embark on your journey home across the bridge, laden with Ziploc baggies filled with more lumpia and sticky-rice desserts that will keep you constipated for no less than a week after you've eaten them and on the verge of tears, whiningly demand from your hapless non-Filipino husband what better be a plausible reason for his non-support of what you insist is your very promising singing (and dancing!) career. Now, how was your (mandatory) end-of-the-year family time???? Peace! We love you guys sooooo much! And, no, Babes, we weren't secretly plotting your *mysterious* disappearance all evening, although, you might want to sleep with one eye open tonight ;)