My Lion Queen

Tread lightly whenever you write something about your significant other; and never, ever mention anything that has to do with their weight (oops!).

But my wife is much, much more than that (oops, again).

You see, just like my mom and my sister, Louie is the eldest in the brood. And while the term 'Unica Hija' may sound cute and adorable, these women almost always grow up to be fierce Alpha females. And according to Animal Planet, when these females choose their mates, they do not pick Alpha males because they just end up tearing each others' throats out. Thus, they end up with husbands who are docile (read: henpecked).

While there are obvious disadvantages to living with a lioness (backseat driving, dictating what you should wear, constant reminders to lift the lid, etc.), there also are pros: For one thing, they earn much more than you. In other words, they do the hunting for food. If I insist on being the provider of the family with my salary, my kids would end up eating McDonalds and instant noodles all their life, not the salmon sashimi and baked oysters that they (we) currently enjoy. Now some old-fashioned guys who were trained in the 'man-of-the-house' school of thought would try to 're-claim their territory'...me? I just enjoy the freebies! Better to give up control of the TV remote well-fed than preserving one's machismo with a rumbling stomach, I say.

Another advantage to having an Alpha mate is that during altercations, they usually do the scratching. When Louie complains to stores or restaurants about bad service, I usually just stand behind and concur:

Louie:"You made us wait for 2 hours."

Me: "Yeah, you did."

Louie: "I want my money back!"

Me: "Yeah, give her her money back (or it's a Big Mac for lunch again)"

But my lioness does a lot more for me than just fill my tummy: she treats my kids like royalty, she endears me with the way she puckers her lips when she is pleased with something and she laughs at my bad jokes. I'm happy to have tracked her scent in this vast jungle; and I still fondly remember the day when I tamed this beast 9 years ago.

And this proud lion would carry her forever on my back into the sunset...if I could (oops).

The Guy Who Made Stepping on Dog Poo Cool

The person on the left is not me; though when I was in High School, I wanted to be like him...let me clarify that - dance like him. During that bygone era of Betamax; it was play-rewind-play-rewind tapes of Michael Jackson music videos (not to mention Linda Lovelace films but that's another story), trying to imitate his dance steps. I kinda got the moves of "Beat it" and half of the "Thriller" dance sequence (the Beta player gobbled up the tape), but the real challenge was doing the moonwalk - keeping your heels flat on the floor while sliding backwards, which is basically what you naturally do when trying to get rid of the dog poo you just stepped on.

But in the end, the only thing MJ-ish I got right was having his skin tone (which would also change eventually...darn it). So I quit trying to spin on my heels and just enjoyed his music. And man, what a line-up of hits this guy had: From 'Rock with You', 'Billie Jean', 'Smooth Criminal', 'Black or White', 'You are not alone'....well, everyone has their bad days.

My love for Michael Jackson's music rubbed off on my daughter, Camy. When I bought DVDs of his videos, there was a time when she would watch them every single day without fail. So it doesn't matter to me if he was ultra-weird or maybe a perv. I had fun watching his videos; my daughter enjoyed listening to his music; my wife got a good laugh out of watching me try to dance like him. So I guess in his life, Michael Jackson has done his job - to make people like us happy.

So, thank you, Mr. Jackson. And I hope you teach those angels how the Moonwalk is really done.

Being Old

The person who coined the phrase “Life Begins at 40” knew what he was talking about, because when you go way beyond calendar age, your body ‘begins’ to tell you that it is not the same one you had 20 years ago - your joints start to creak, you lose your quickness, it takes you longer to recover from physical activity and your stomach, which was flat, and your butt, which was round, suddenly interchange adjectives. It is a sad fact that when you are in your 20’s, you and your friends brag about the number of women you conquer; but when you’re 40 and above, you brag about the number of maladies you have.

But aside from the physical changes, the one thing I hate about getting old is that I am painfully close to, if not already, being branded a D.O.M. If the pickup lines I used to deliver merited a "smooth!” before, now if I use the exact same script, word-for-word, I would be greeted with an “eww!” and a slap on the face (or worse, a kick in the groin, which as stated above, would take me quite a while to recover from).

The terms used also betray one’s age. There are no ‘discotheques’ now; there are ‘clubs’. Live musicians are no longer referred to as ‘combos’. ‘Bongga’ is now replaced with ‘Da bomb’. And words such as ‘jeproks’, ‘baduy’, ‘haybol’ and ‘kelot’ or ‘bebot’ are virtually extinct (though the Filipino member of The Black-eyed Peas revived the word in one of their hits last year – he must be my age) . The obvious indication that a word is in the same class as the dinosaur is if Microsoft Word puts a red, curvy line underneath it, short of the program saying:”What the hell is that?”

If you see a guy on the street sporting Topsiders, Penny Loafers, Espadrilles or Crayons shoes, chances are, that person is old. Granted, some fashion styles from the past have recently enjoyed a revival: bell-bottoms were used by hip-hopping bagets, er…teenagers, and ‘baston’ pants evolved into ‘slim-fit’ jeans. Fortunately, bikini trunks (aka Speedos) have been replaced forever by board shorts.

There is a supposed silver lining to being old, aside from the obvious you-can-enter-an-‘R’-rated-movie-without-question, your reputation gets an upgrade: people think your are wiser, mature and financially stable. It is ironic though, that the flashy sports car you yearned for in your younger years, by the time you can afford it, the intended ‘stud’ effect will not be achieved anymore because an old man driving a Ferrari will only elicit two impressions: 1) that his grandson lent it to him or 2) gimme a ‘D’! gimme an ‘O’! gimme an ‘M’!

But come to think of it, I did get wiser and more mature (2 out of 3 ain’t bad). I now don’t get bothered by stuff that used to really bug me as a youngster, such as what other people think about me. Plus, there’s my lovely wife and two daughters who make growing old tons of fun.

So aging is not as bad as it seems. You get more respect, your opinion matters more to others and you enjoy the experience of raising a family. He’s right: life does begin at 4o!*creak*

My Two Adorable Imps

Don't worry, this is not going to be one of those gushy, syrupy-sweet proclamations about children being lovely and all, because the fact is I don't like kids-they're noisy, they destroy things, and they block your way in public places. When my wife, Louie told me when we were just married that there might be a possiblity of us not being able to have kids due to a condition of hers, I said: "no problem."

Then about 2 years into our marriage, Camy came along.

To backtrack a bit, it is usual for the baby's nickname to be given based on the real name. Here it was the reverse. Going through a toy store, I saw an action figure of a Street Fighter character named 'Camy', and I thought 'Camy Caridad' had a nice ring to it so we worked on her real name from there. I first thought of 'Camilla Caridad' but it was amended to a more western 'Camille' so we ended up with 'Victoria Camille' because it was Louie's suggestion that we intersperse the parent's name- Victor, mine, with the baby's.

Anyway, do NOT believe the movie scene where a newborn baby in a nursery is the cutest thing. I had that picture in my mind while waiting for the nurse to get my new-born child. As the curtains to the viewing window parted, lo and behold, I discovered that I had given birth to a lovely...conehead.

I do not envy first-time parents during the child's first year. It is tough and degrading - you get hands-on, at times face-on experience with every type of excrement the human body can produce - puke on your face, poo on your arm and pee, well, everywhere.

So Louie and I (actually mostly Louie), went through years of sleepless nights and dirty hands bringing up Camy (I didn't know milk and diapers cost a fortune). Then several years later when Camy was marginally proficient in communicating, she uttered: "I want a baby brother."

We tried, but Camy didn't get a baby brother. 'Sofie', or 'Sofia Louise' (following the tradition of including the parent's name - it was Louie's turn) was born thereafter. Just when Camy stopped waking us in the middle of the night, it was Sofie's turn.

What is it with kids and stickers? And why do they always stick them on things that are not supposed to have stickers on them - Doors, walls, the refrigerator, the tv screen? How can a fragile child of 2 years have the strength to rip off a faucet from its socket? Why did my long lost ballpen reappear inside a toy car? Why do they choose 3am as snack time? Such are just some of the puzzling questions that parents have to live with while raising their offspring.

I'll let you in on a secret though: when my kids turned about 3 and were already able to talk coherently, I realized, no matter how jaded I am about children, that I love these two troublemakers more than anything in the world.

There is nothing like going home after a tough day at work to two kids jumping up and down at the sight of you and running up to give you a hug (though afterwards when you REALLY want to rest, you tell them to go to the other room).

I am proud to say, that my daughters are both pretty and smart and I would kill anyone who would do them no good. So watch out, future boyfriends!

Don't get me wrong, I still don't like kids. In fact, having two of my own has proven my notions about them. But there is a world of difference between Camy and Sofie and all other kids in the world - they're mine.

HK/Macau diary

Dear diary,

-The public transport system of Hongkong is so efficient, you can go to practically any part of the country quickly and hassle-free....so why do my feet hurt?

-Life in Hongkong is fast-paced: the people walk fast and the cars and trains speed by. Heck, even the escalators whiz up or down. Alas, so does the rate at which your pocket money disappears.

-Asians are not a demonstrative race. In Madame Tussaud's wax museum, the visitors wanted to have crazy picture poses with the wax figures but were too shy to go all out for fear of looking stupid in front of the others. So most merely settled for the arm-around-the-shoulder or standing-beside-with-a-hand-forming-an-L-shape-under-the-figure's-chin pose.

-As the name suggests, Ocean Park has a large aquarium, dolphin and seal shows, and even a jellyfish tank. But the highlight of the park is a live panda - odd.

-Swine flu fever (pun intended) is dying down in HK. But in public places, there are announcements such as "do not spit on the street." "Spit in a tissue and throw it in the trash bin", etc. Maybe the MMDA can apply this in the Philippines by putting up pink signs on sidewalks saying:"Bawal dumahak..Nakamamatay."

-The night market in Mongkong really reminds me of our native Tiangge. Yet that night, I felt a bit uneasy - something was needed to make this flea market experience complete. But after mulling it over the next morning, I finally figured out what was lacking - loud chants of "Dibidi! Dibidi!" in the background.

-There's a place in Lantau Island called Ngong Ping where you go on a 20-minute cable car ride up a mountain where you can find the biggest bronze buddha in the world and walk the "path of enlightenment." After climbing 100+ steps to see the huge statue, the meaning of life suddenly dawned on me - "WORK OUT!"

-There is no lechon in Macau. There is, however, a delicious egg tart sold in bakeshops there. The hawkers who sell these yell "Po Ta!" - a different kind of tart to the Pinoy male.

-Shopping is a pleasure in Hongkong. Aside from the wide array of choices (though I feel they lack a good bookstore), their cashiers do not ask you if you have a smaller bill or if it is okay that they don't give you the right amount of change.

-Hong Kong Disneyland is such a wonderful place. It's just a bit disconcerting to hear Mickey Mouse speak with the accent of Master Oogwey.

-There are 3 absolutes when you travel abroad with your family - 1) At one point or another, you will eat in a McDonald's. 2) Your 3-year old will fall asleep in the middle of the day and 3) It is always the dad who has to carry him/her around.

-Last day in HK...Goodbye MTR, hello MRT. Goodbye Ocean Park panda,hello Panda ballpen. Goodbye Po Tas of Macau, hello P**as of Quezon Ave. Goodbye Disneyland, hello Enchanted Kingdom. Goodbye Victoria Peak, hello Victoria Court. sigh...gotta go and buy the requisite HK keychain pasalubongs.