Tuesday, June 26, 2007

A Woman Will Give You Shit

At least that what my old man used today. And he should know. Heh. But it's a little tragic when my 3-year-old little boy should find that out.

"Do you know what happened to Jesse yesterday?" Mae voice rattled excitedly over the phone this morning. She was, of course, dying to tell me.

"Cutie-Pie shat all over him," Mae said, "literally."

It took me awhile to respond. I mean, how exactly does one kid shit on another? And right in the middle of their kindergarten class too. Some pretty unsavoury images found its way to the dark recesses of my mind. Did his little co-ed pin him down? Or was he a willing party? Did he roll around in it laughing his head off?

"Is she cute?" the typical male in me enquired.

"Quite," Mae sniggered.

"Then I guess it was worth it."

No clever retort from Mae. She knows I'd take a whole load from her too. :)

UPDATE: In case anybody's wondering, this is not one of those cryptic posts. Poor little Cutie-Pie came to school with a bout of diaorrhea. She had a little accident and there was shit all over the place and for some reason, some of it ended up on Jesse's uniform and nobody can say for certain how that happened. I shall have to interrogate the boy tonight.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

A Little Less Conversation

Even before he was born, I had longed to someday have meaningful conversations with my son. Unfortunately, Jesse is a boy of few words. For the life of me, I can't seem to understand why.

Legend has it that his father (*ahem) could talk long before he could walk. My mom and my aunties swear that between my cousin Dean and I, we were two kids rolled into one. At about one plus he'd be pushing me around in the stroller, while I barked out orders. He walked the walk, while I talked the talk. Must have been quite a sight.

His mother... hmph... just try and shut her up. Heh.

Jesse, however, isn't much for conversation. It isn't that he can't speak or can't communicate his wants and needs, it's just that he doesn't ever really feel like having a dialogue with anybody.

"What did you do at school today, Jesse? Did you learn anything new? Did you sing songs? Did you..."

"Jesse wanna oi-oi,"
he'd butt in, indicating his desire to go to bed, as if our questions were putting him to sleep. Meanwhile his classmates at the kindie are giving their parents a 200-word oral report or their day at school.

Little Gabriel tells his daddy Alex exactly what happens at school each day. Little Scott in the next class can tell his mommy that Jesse is his schoolmate when we bumped into them at Ikea. Jesse on the other hand, tells us diddley squat.

Either he's not interested in conversation, or he's up to no good at school. *sigh*

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Till Death Do We Part

A couple of days ago, a neighbour in Block B of my apartment building jumped off the balcony of his fourth floor unit. Neighbours say he came home, got into a shouting match with his wife and decided he has had enough.

"Sometimes when you nag me, I just wanna slit my wrist and end it all," I told Mae once. Of course I was being an asshole at the time for saying that, but maybe a small part of me meant it.

I hate confrontations with the wife. And I think a lot of men share this sentiment. Having the wife nag you incessantly can really be a fate worse than death. This, I mean as a figure of speech, but unfortunately some men take it literally.

When we married, I imagined a life of bliss and eternal happiness - Mae whispering sweet nothings in my ear, smiling sweetly with every word that proceeds from her mouth. And then reality bites you in the ass.

It takes a lot to make a marriage work. When a husband and a wife get into a shouting match, here's an advice for the guys: shut up, or you'll just make things worse. As for the girls, hey, you too can shut up. Try it, it works.

Anyway, the couple were in their early 30s. I'm pretty sure whatever the wife might have said, she'll probably regret it all her life. As for the guy, if he had just turned around and gave the wife a big fat hug instead, perhaps things may have turned out very differently.

Monday, June 11, 2007

Much Needed Getaway

It was the school holidays and Mom was in town. Her brother and his wife suggests a trip up Gentings, and we decide it would be a good idea to tag along. Despite being just a one-day thing for Mae, Jesse, our new maid, Anie and I, it was a much needed getaway.

Mom's living all alone in Taiping these days since Grandma's passing. The trip was a great change of pace for her. It was too, for Mae who only started working again 2 months ago.

Clever me, in my usual absent-minded self, forgot to fill the gas tank before we drove up. Our last few kilometers up the hill were, as you can imagine, a pretty harrowing experience. And in case you were wondering, yes, the engine did die - but thankfully only some 300 meter away from the gas pump up in Gentings and at the stairs. My walk uphill got me gas and a good exercise.

(But don't think for a moment that the incident will teach me to keep my tank filled. I have had my car die on my on numerous occassions, and I never learnt my lesson then. :P )

At the outdoor park, we egged Anie to get on the Corkscrew. Anie is a sad little girl who hardly ever smiled (more on this in another post). So, up she went in the rollercoaster and down she came smiling ear to ear. It was the best thing for her.

As for Jesse, he had a whale of a time on the rides. However, being the school holidays and all, Genting Highlands was packed to the brim with schoolkids. Every fun ride was preceded by a half-hour queue. Imagine standing in a queue for 30 minutes with 13 kgs on your shoulder. It's no walk in the park, I assure you.

So yeah, it wasn't the best holiday getaway we ever had. Heck, not even close. But it was certainly much needed.

P/S - BTW, I'm behind on my blogging. This trip was a week ago. Today, we just came back from Taiping. Expect a flurry of entries in the next few days!

Wednesday, June 6, 2007

About Peng

in memoriam: Peng

Two weeks ago, a friend was found dead in her apartment. She was bound and gagged in what the police determined as a robbery, and she asphyxiated on her gag.

I can't say I knew Peng very well, but I knew her enough to feel the grief of her sudden and violent passing. We worked in many projects together in my church's drama production group. She did make-up, while I designed costumes and sets. She knew her stuff, having worked on some real professional productions before. I stuck around the backstage a lot, learning stuff from her - and she would always share.

Peng was a livewire. She was always loud and larger-than-life. And, as many of her friends would attest, she had a heart of gold.

I can't begin to imagine what her last moments would have been like, yet I can't stop thinking about it. Even now. Perhaps because of way she was taken. And perhaps, because you never expect these things to happen to people you know.

I was away in Miri for work when they held her wake. I regret deeply that I was not able to say one last goodbye. But perhaps it was better this way. I would not have been able to handle it very well.

Goodbye Peng. See you again someday on the other side.

Peng's Memorial