Trick Or Trip

Last Wednesday morning, my friend, Chito, was in a hurry on his way to work. Driving along the traffic-jammed Ortigas Avenue Extension during the morning rush hour certainly didn’t help in his quest to break his consecutive tardy clock-ins at work for the past few days. But he was still hoping for some sort of a miracle. Maybe the traffic gods could be a bit kinder to him that day and let him zoom his way to his office in Shaw Boulevard.

But that day was not his lucky day. Traffic crawled at a snail’s pace. He was mindlessly driving by the inner lanes of the bridge along Ortigas. And he could clearly see that traffic was also building up even on the opposite lanes. This section is usually the choking point for motorists due to the bottleneck structure of the roads.

He saw a familiar vehicle coming from the adjacent opposite lane. It was Charlie’s FX. Charlie is a friend and a neighbor. He drives the FX for a living and it is not unusual that they cross each other’s path during the morning commute.

Chito honked his horn as his car neared Charlie’s FX. Charlie immediately recognized Chito’s car and beeped a greeting to him while waving his hand. Chito smiled and waved back.

“Oh crap! It’s already 9AM and I’m still here,” Chito realized.

The rest of the morning drive was as uneventful as the rest of the working day. That was until he got home later that evening and got greeted by some surprising news.

Another friend broke the news to him that Charlie died earlier that day. Jogging at the parking lot of a local mall early that morning, he suffered a stroke. He died on the spot.

“But I even saw him driving his FX early this morning,” Chito told his friend.

“Are you sure it was him?” his friend verified.

“Yup, he even honked at me and waved his hand. That was around 9AM,” Chito recounted.

“That can’t be. First of all, Charlie didn't go on any trip today since his FX is banned from the roads, being a Wednesday. You know, that coding scheme. And secondly, Charlie jogged at around 7AM and he was pronounced dead-on-arrival at the nearby hospital at around 8AM,” his friend explained.

Chito creepily realized his day wasn’t as uneventful as he initially thought.

Happy Halloween everyone!

Shaping The Young Mind

“Wectanggu,” my three-year-old nephew AJ says.

My wife draws a rectangle using MS Paint on our PC. I just look on as AJ claps his hands upon seeing the rectangle.

“Shirkow,” utters AJ. His eyes glued to the PC monitor the whole time.

My wife draws a circle right beside the rectangle. AJ thinks this is really fun.

“Huch,” AJ instructs as the next shape to be drawn.

Wife flashes a puzzled look on her face. “What’s a huch?” she asks me.

“Beats me,” I say as I shrug my shoulders. “Mom,” I call out to my Mom to help us out translate AJ’s language. “What’s a huch?”

“A huch is a heart,” Mom explains.

“Ahhh… heart,” wife and I pronounce in chorus.

“Huch, huch,” AJ repeats as if saying yeah that’s what I meant as my wife draws a red heart on the computer.

“Ok, what’s the next shape you want us to draw AJ?” I ask the little rascal sitting on my office chair.

“Atigun,” AJ says excitedly.

My wife and I look at each other.

Atigun? What the? We’re totally clueless.

I turn around to ask Mom for help yet again. But she has already gone to the kitchen. We’re all by ourselves in trying to decipher this one.

“What’s that shape again, AJ?” I ask and this time I tried to listen as carefully as possible.

“Atigun,” AJ repeats with that pleading look on his face telling me how can you not know what an atigun is?!

I pause for a moment, trying to decipher the word. Atigun. A shape. With three syllables. We’ve already done the rectangle, circle, heart. It can’t be the square. Nor the triangle. What other shape could there be? Atigun. A-ti-gun. A-ti…

A light bulb flashes inside my head.

“I have a guess on what an atigun is,” I tell my wife.

“Is it an octagon, AJ?”

“Atigun! Atigun!” AJ says rather loudly almost to a shout, repeatedly nodding his head in agreement. If he can only express his thoughts, I know he would have said “Finally, thank God.”

And my wife draws an octagon.

Reminder to self: ask my brother as to who taught AJ what an octagon is. Little children are not supposed to learn about the octagon till they are about 7 or 8.

Oh Christmas Tree

Since we got married, my wife and I decorate our Christmas tree together. And we usually do it during the extended All Saints' Day / All Souls' Days break.

But this year, we decided to break tradition and set up our tree one week earlier mainly due to two reasons. First, we are changing trees. We needed more time for adjustments should the fickle mind of my wife decide to change colors and motiff if the end result does not turn out the way she expects it to be.

And second, my wife is just plain excited with all the new decors she bought during the three-day-weekend-shop-till-you-drop-or-till-your-credit-card-maxes-out-mega-sale last weekend. Just couldn't wait one more week for us to set up the tree.

We decided to get a narrower tree this year. Not a smaller one, but a narrower one. (See picture) What the new tree lacks in width, it makes up with its height. The new one is a gigantic eight-footer, one foot higher than our former tree. I can just imagine the look on our nephews' and nieces' faces when they get to see this one. AJ would need to have a longer stick in order to pick the balls and the stars hanging on this tree.

If you think that putting up a Christmas tree with my wife is just as simple as buying different colored balls and hanging them randomly on the tree till the spaces run out, think again. This project, my dear friends, took one month of careful planning. It started with the mapping out of the color combinations using Adobe Photoshop (yup, this project involved full use of latest technology). Then we had to run back and forth to the different shops selling Chistmas decors to compare colors, designs, and prices. And, of course, before pushing through with the final purchases, a detailed plan was submitted to me containing the budget for the whole tree and ornaments.

Almost everything went according to plan. Well, except on the calculation of the Christmas lights to be used. We estimated that since the new tree would be a lot narrower than our former, this one should eat up only around 400 bulbs of Chistmas lights. That's 100 light bulbs per two feet. A reasonable estimate.

Or not.

As it turned out, I had to run to the nearest mall last weekend to purchase more lights for our tree. I still can't believe it. How can a narrow tree with a height of 8 feet consume 700 bulbs of Christmas lights?

Our electricity bill for the next two months should be interesting.

It's-Not-Really-Butter

A few weeks ago, my wife decided to hoard on some personal items when The Body Shop in Shangri-La went on sale. It’s her way of coping up when she misses shopping at Bath and Body Works in LA.

I have posted here before about our nightly rituals before going to bed. And with my wife’s kikay artillery fully loaded with new items, her post-bath rituals at night time took a little bit longer than usual. I even saw her applying some sort of cream I haven’t seen before.

“What’s that you’re applying on your arms and legs?” ignorant husband asks.

“Butter,” wife replies matter-of-factly.

“What butter? Non-fat?” husband asks trying to annoy wife who is also watching her telenovela.

“It’s called body butter, dum-dum. It’s a body moisturizer,” wife answers without breaking a beat from her even application of the cream on her legs.

“Ahhhh…” as if husband understands what that is for.

“I think I should apply some on your elbows. They’re very dry,” wife suggests to husband.

“O-kay,” husband agrees uncertainly.

And so that night, my elbows had their first taste of body butter. It was going to be a start of a nightly ritual. And believe it or not, the butter showed results after just a few applications. My elbows aren’t that dry and rough anymore.

Next time, I’ll ask my wife if she can apply some on my knees, too.

I know, I’m a closet metrosexual.

Hang The DJ

My wife hates me for continuously playing the other song.

She says that I am such a KJ trying to spoil a perfectly fine song for her - the song which has been loved by more Filipinos due to its catchy beat and proud-Pinoy lyrics.

But it's just me playing out my skills as a DJ.

On CD deck A was the theme from the TV hit, reality game show, Pinoy Big Brother.

And on CD deck B was the freshly-dug-from-the-archives song, from 80's new wave band The Care, entitled Chandeliers.

I was repeatedy mixing the two songs together trying to find the perfect intro points and counting the bars for a perfect match. It wasn't really that hard.

Now, whether the Pinoy Ako song by local band Orange and Lemons is actually a rip-off of that 80's song is another matter. Ordinarily, I would have given the local band the benefit of the doubt. Musical influences can sometimes be obviously evident with some artists' work. But when I got to hear the song it has allegedly ripped-off, man oh man, was I disappointed.

And to consider the message the song's lyrics convey.

Pinoy, ikaw ay Pinoy
Ipakita sa mundo
Kung ano ang kaya mo
Ibang iba ang Pinoy
Wag kang matatakot
Ipagmalaki mo
Pinoy ako, Pinoy tayo

Listen to it yourself. You be the judge.

http://media.putfile.com/TheCare-Chandeliers