Wednesday, May 31, 2006
The Sex Talk
It came as a surprise when I learned that my Chinese-American receptionist whose parents are first generation Chinese immigrants, got a "sex talk" from her father when she was in the 9th grade. Her dad even went as far as demonstrating how to put condoms on with a banana as a penis model. "Listen, if he doesn't know how to put it on, you're gonna have to put it on," he taught. I thought she had a very progressive set of parents.
All I got was the same statement my sisters got when they reached puberty. "Your virginity is the best gift you can give your husband," my mom exclaimed, to which my eldest sister replied, "Okay then let me put my hymen in a box!"
Oh, I also got this: "Don't go to the movies with a boy, because before you know it, he would have kissed you already!" Poor Ma and her words of wisdom. Maybe I should have just followed my dad's advice:
"Have many boyfriends from different countries!"
Puberty is a funny thing, especially from a parent's point of view.
My brother got a more interesting one-liner sex talk from my father, determined to perpetuate the Filipino machismo that consumes the country's male population:
"O! Nagbabate ka na ba?!!!"
In English, "Are you slapping the monkey yet!!?" (of course much of it is lost in translation).
An uncle also decided to tell my brother, at age 15, to make sure he shoves spermicidal suppositories up women's vaginas. In Filipino,
"O! Basta pasakan mo yung mga puke nila!"
Lovely.
What kind of sex talk did you get?
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Kitchen Renovation
These are before and after photos of our do-it-yourself kitchen renovation.
Hala, ganyan lang siguro talaga sa America, sariling sikap. Mahal ang labor! Hehe!
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Home Improvement 101
In the eighties, I would spend after-school afternoons and extended summer days by my lonesome, because my brother (who was almost my only playmate) would ride his bicycle over to Don Bosco street and hang out with his pal Utoy to play games like teks (flipping small character cards) and jolen (marbles), both of which I wasn't allowed to join because I was a girl.
After boring myself with my scientific experiments and inventions such as my pedal-powered fan (which I realized didn't really make sense because as I was pedalling, I was sweating), I would head on to my father's company carpentry shop to watch the carpenters work. There would be bulk quantities of plywood, paint and the like, delivered weekly by the local hardware shop Andy & Sons. As an eleven-year-old on my bike I once wandered around that dusty store in amazement, and got puzzled looks from the staff when I purchased a complete wrench set. But let's not digress.
The head carpenter at that time was Godofredo, a middle-aged stocky man whom everyone called Mang Godo. Mang Godo worked all day with his makeshift tools as I watched, and one day he gave me a wooden pencil case he had built for me. I brought it to school, and amidst the Hello Kitty and My Melody pencil boxes everyone else had, mine stood out with its Narra wood, stained and varnished, and a magnetic lock to boot. I used it throughout high school.
I would play in his shop and he would lend me his tools, reminding me to not run the wood shaver on wood with a nail in it. I would hammer and saw, sand and grind, until my legs turned itchy from the sawdust on the floor. But no one ever forbid me from playing in his shop, and so I fell in love with tools and woodwork.
These skills finally paid off the past few months at the new house. We've done electrical wiring, plumbing, bathroom vanity installation, painting, kitchen countertop installation and backsplash tiling. The slate tile turned out really nice, I think it's our proudest achievement. What a labor of love! Before and after photos to follow...
Throughout all this, I have found that home improvement is a very rewarding experience. Thanks, Mang Godo.
