Monsieur Abwan

A week before his flight for Paris, my Asia-particularly-China-fanatic dad was getting more and more reluctant about the trip. While we were on our way to the office one morning, he suddenly pretended to be a kid throwing a tantrum:

Daddy, shaking his head and fake-crying: "Ayoko na umalis....ayoko na umalis!!! Walang magawa sa Europe, mas masarap pa sa Chinaaa."


(After 1 week)


Arriving from the airport, he enters our main door where my brother greeted him:

Carl: O! Kamusta trip?!
...
..
.
Daddy: Bon Jour.

He's 58.

Yesterday I went to the mall to have some pressed flowers* laminated into bookmarks.

*Roses from the (not-so-)surprise party we threw for our dad 3 weeks ago.


Daddy, in the car: Anong ginawa mo dyan? Buong hapon ka ba sa mall? (What did you do there? Did you spend the whole afternoon in the mall?)

Me: Ah hindi, sandali lang. Nagpa-laminate lang ako ng bookmarks. (Ah, nope. I just had some bookmarks laminated.)

Daddy: Sinong kasama mo? (Who were you with?)

Me: Ako lang. Mabilis lang naman ako dun. (Just me. It was just a quick errand.)

Daddy: Mag-isa ka lang naglalakad dun? (So you were just by yourself?)

Me: Ahh oo, bakit? (Ahh yup, why?)



Daddy, snickering:....................Loser.

Hyper When Hungry

Friday night, us four again in the car: ahya (driving), dihya (passenger seat), Daddy and me.

We were on our way to pick up Elaine from her bakeshop Carla and Elaine's in Greenhills and as expected, traffic was slow that night.


Around 7ish, Dad was getting hungry and we soon discovered that hunger was one of the three things* (and counting) that triggered his hyperactivity and heightened talkativeness, or what my dihya would refer to as "second childhood."

*(1) Golf the next day. He couldn't even sleep due to his excitement. And it's not like he just started to play the sport. He's been a golfer for more than a decade.

(2) Spicy food. Proven by Kocco's Hot Tuna Bread.

(3) Hunger.

Because of the traffic, my ahya had to look for a different route so we could go home in time for dinner. My dihya suggested that he take a shortcut dad had taught him a few weeks ago.

Remembering that my dihya was skeptical of his shortcut before, dad goes: Ooohhhh!! Iyan yung tinuro ko sa iyo dati. Sabi mo hindi OK yung turo ko tapos ngayon tinuturo mo na kay Ahya. Tama ako noh? OK yung daan ko. Aminin mo. Tama yung tinuro ko. Aminin! Uuyyy aminiiiiin!!! (then putting on a girly voice) AMIIIINIIIIIII--- (he cuts himself off, distracted by the car shop named Mother's we just passed by).

2 seconds after,

Daddy, singing a John Lennon song, feel na feel: "MOOOTHERRRRR...."

Someone give this guy a sedative. HAHAHA.

Uhh...Guess Not

Dad was being his usual talkative self, this time the topic centered around someone's daughter.

My brother asks: Maganda ba?

Daddy: Mabait.

Brother: Maganda ba?!?

Daddy: Uhh...Matalino.

The Neverending Story

The ride going to and from the office is never, ever dull.
In the car, both of my brothers are always seated in front; my dad and I at the back. The two most talkative, without a doubt, are my daddyo and his mini-me (although actually taller than him), my dihya.

Being the only girl there, I'm indebted to my iPod for letting me tune out and escape from all their chitchats on cars, sports, and other guy stuff I could care less about. Once I get in the car, I automatically take it out and press Play until we arrive home 30-40 minutes later.

Sometimes, their conversations would get too heated up I'd either have to increase the volume of my music or hit pause and play the role of the adjudicator.
Though if it isn't raised voices, it's usually boisterous laughters I hear through my earphones.

One time, my dad started sharing to us a story about China (or a childhood memory of his, or one of his business-related anecdotes-- I forget. He always talks about these 3 all the time.), so I stopped my iPod for a while and listened.

Two sentences in, my dihya goes: OOOOoooohhhppp ohp ohp ohppp. Stop. Alam na namin iyan.
My ahya followed: Nakwento mo na iyan.

My dad pauses. Sitting beside him, I see his face still looking excited. And so he continues on with his story.

My two brothers: OoOooohhh narinig na nga namin iyan. Ilang beses mo na iyan kinwento eh. Paulit ulit na.

Daddy, pauses again, letting them finish. His facial expression still unchanged and his body shifted forward, making sure they hear him loud and clear: .....tapos noh...blah blah blah... tapos........

Brothers, laughing a little while daddy continues talking: Sinabi na ngang narinig na, kwento pa rin siya...

Daddy, unmindful and still fascinated by his own repeatedly-told story (his intonations and hand gestures full of emotion each time he tells it): ...blah blah blah...tapos.....blah blah blah..........

Brothers: Wala talagang effect...

Me: HAHAHAHAHA!

I Guess He's Not A Fan As Well

The morning after mom's birthday party, our refrigerator was stocked with boxes of cakes, one of which was the famous Conti's Mango Bravo. (A tall cake with layers of meringue, whipped cream, chocolate cream, and of course, mangoes.)

They say it's their bestseller; personally though, I'm not really a big fan.

Photo by Mr. Anton from the blog Our Awesome Planet

At the breakfast table, my mom asked my dad if he wanted to bring a slice of the Mango Bravo for merienda later.

Daddy, irked: AYOKO 'YAN, OVER-ACTING! MASYADONG OVER-ACTING!

:)) Haha.

Coolio Daddio

After having checked the schedule for upcoming concerts here in Manila, I immediately messaged my dad.


Me: magconcert paul anka sept 20 (Paul Anka's having a concert on Sept. 20.)

Daddy: pangit yun (That's ugly / I'm not interested.)

Me: nde ba fave mo yun? (Isn't he your favorite?) ---knowing full well he owns P. Anka CD's

Daddy: dati ngayon si maroon 5 (Before. Now, Maroon 5.)



..........Wow. And to think I spent the whole day listening to OPM's.

*I especially love how he preceded Maroon 5 with a Si. Haha.*