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I don’t know if you knew, but people are funny. For this reason, we are proud to announce that some people are going to be funny for us.

If you’ve been living under a rock, you haven’t noticed that I’m currently vacationing in the Philippines. That means that my dumb as rocks dogs have been left in the more than capable hands of BaristaGirl, FunSized’s little sister, who apparently didn’t like the idea of the blog name MiniFunSized.

Yes, the dogs are in capable hands because she is, in fact, a fully grown woman, and not a mini version of FunSized.

And yes, the dogs are in capable hands because they are both small enough to be picked up and held.

And yes, we now present our first guest blogger, BaristaGirl, with adventures in L.A. Land.

Xo, L.A.

Hey there, readers!

While L.A. is vacationing in the Philippines, I am here house-sitting her abode back in the states. Let me tell you, it has been an adventure! After sharing some of my stories with FunSized, she suggested to L.A. that I guest blog about what I’ve learned house sitting.

Lesson 1. Clocks Chime.

As you all know (if you are a regular reader of this blog, which you should be), L.A. lives with her parental units. Ever since we were young, her father has collected clocks. Analog, wind-up, grandfather, whatever kind, I am sure he owns it. L.A. briefly mentioned that these clocks chime in an orchestral pattern at times, however growing up in a neighborhood by the train tracks, I wasn’t worried about the noise.

I WAS WRONG.

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Clocks chime. Loudly. The first night, the oh-so-lovely clocks woke me up from a dead sleep every hour on the dot. It’s like having house wide alarm clocks.

Text between BaristaGirl and FunSized

Text between BaristaGirl and FunSized

Lesson 2. Some dogs walk, while others crawl.

L.A. has two dogs. Although both small and white, the similarities stop there. Dog #1 is older, partially blind, and walks fairly slow. Dog #2, is yippy and slightly spastic. Now add me, an amateur dog walker at best into the mix and boy, do you have a show.

Many a walk was spent being yanked by Dog #2 who bolts out the door in a flash, only to be dragging poor Dog #1 behind. I also recall at one point Dog #2 almost being cloths-lined by the leash of Dog#1 due to a squirrel sighting. I can only imagine what a sight it must have been for all the neighbors.

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Lesson 3. Trash day is not the same in any language.

Grand Rapids has an ODD trash/recycle/refuse system. Not living directly in the city myself, I never thought twice to check with L.A. about trash day. I should have. Not only do they have city regulated trash bins, but also trash bags. And apparently if you use a non-city distributed bag you have to use special tags? Oh dear God. It’s way too confusing for it’s own good.

In case you were curious, I still don’t have a clue what day trash day is.*

Lesson 4. All outlets are not created equal.

In this day and age, technology is everything. Even L.A. and I were joking about how on vacation she was taking half of the Apple store with her! The downfall of having all these products? Cords and Battery Life. I must have a million of unused power cords and chargers lying around from old phones, iPods, and computers. Not only that, but the products I do have need to constantly charge.

So, in a recent quest to charge my laptop, I came upon the realization that all the surge protectors and outlets in L.A.’s room didn’t fit my laptop plug.** 20 minutes later, I found an outlet. IN THE BATHROOM.

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BaristaGirl, while not house sitting, dog sitting, and grounded outlet searching, is a part time Barista at Starbucks and a full time sister to  FunSized. Both scenarios give us great hope for more guest posts when L.A. feels lazy or BaristaGirl feels funny.

*Footnote from L.A.: Trash Day is totally Mondays.

**Footnote from L.A. Part 2: I attempted to help with the “very few grounded outlets” problem by suggesting the following:

Text between L.A. And FunSized

Text between L.A. And FunSized

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Lima Gamit

Baguio City.

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It’s raining, so that means it’s time for blogging. That, and iMessage has decided to be a pain in the ass and stop working. I mean, it might be all my technology trying to be nice to everyone back home, since me texting you now means me texting you at seven am, and really, who is up now? Or else, maybe it’s trying to be nice to the interwebs and give you another blog from me.

…which in case you didn’t notice, isn’t even totally necessary because GoldDust exists!

But since the rain and the douchebaggery technology, here are five things I’ve learned since being in the Philippines.

1. The Boo knows more Tagalog than I probably ever will.

The title of this blog is roughly “five things” in Zambale, according to my mom. I asked her to spell it out for me, and Boo just started counting. He can get up to at least twelve. I can say “thank you.”

2. The day is twelve hours. Exactly. Or almost.

Sun rises at 6 am. Sun sets at 6 pm. My sleep schedule is all sorts of weird.

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3. Vacation hair.

Totally forgot to bring shampoo and conditioner. If you remember my post about my awesome packing skills, this isn’t surprising. However, the intense heat plus lack of conditioner plus hair being up in a ponytail/bun/braid all day equals me looking like this:

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4. I’m totally kidding. It just looks like this:

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5. A learning lesson for you:

“Salamat” means thank you. And now you know about as much Tagalog as me.

Needle in a haystack.

Went shopping at a mall today. At one point, VS and I separated from the parental units.

Fast Forward.

VS: How are we going to find them now?

L.A.: I suppose we could ask the guard at the door if he’s seen a tall white man go through.

*Both of us laugh*

VS: Hey, what’s our cousin doing?

*Both of us turn to see our cousin talking to the guard and mentioning to us. The guard’s face light up and he smiles and nods at us, motioning us into the store.*

L.A.: I can’t believe that just worked.

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The one show with the Old Star and the Young Star and the guy that’s a douchebag, probably.

We finished up The Bachelor tonight. Dad and I walked in from choir just in the nick of time — something dramatic happened and then he picked a girl.

And then sunset and elephants and all that good stuff happened. Yay, TV relationships! Yay, true love!

Then, the whole “this is what’s happening now” episode happened, and my Dad and I bantered through it up to the point where my mom was,

You guys suck. It’s true love. They’re getting married on national tv.”

And then she went to bed, and my dad and I ate some fish, and I came upstairs to blog for day 5.

I was starting to write about the Bachelor, because OMFG, elephants and caribou, and I was all set to have a “Sh!t my Mother Says” entry, when I realized we didn’t really say 50 words — which is the length that the blogs need to be for this bet that’s going on.

You know you does say a lot of words? My father and me.

For example:

Dad: So who’s this girl?

Me: She’s the reigning queen of country music.

Dad: Who’s the bitchy girl?

Me: The newcomer. They don’t get along.

Dad: Is that her boyfriend?

Me: That’s the guitarist for the queen. He’s sleeping with her.

Dad: Sleeping with the queen?

Me: No, the bitch. He used to sleep with the queen. They have a history.

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Dad: Okay, so he’s sleeping with this blonde girl?

Me: But not this blonde. This blonde’s his niece.

Dad: They look the same.

Me: She’s a lighter blonde.

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Dad: I can’t tell. Is this girl the princess of country?

Me: She’s a waitress. She sings with this guy.

Dad: Oh, so she’s probably sleeping with him.

Me: Not yet. She’s got a boyfriend.

Dad: He looks like a douchebag.

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Me: It’s because he is.

Dad: This guy looks like a douchebag too.

Me: He’s running for mayor.

Dad: Well, how’s he connected?

Me: He’s married to the queen.

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Dad: I thought she was sleeping with this guitarist.

Me: Not this guitarist, but with that guitarist. And they don’t anymore. He’s sleeping with the blonde.

Dad: The mean blonde or his niece?

Awkward pause.

Dad: Never mind. I’m going to bed.

Ladies and Gentlemen, network TV and my father present Nashville.

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L.A. becomes magical when talking shit. Beat that.

The other day, my mother comes into my room at some random hour (imagine it just being fairly late. Post midnight. I’m basically comatose.) and asks me if I can do her a favor.

My initial response?

No. No, Mother, I cannot do you any more favors, because NUMBER ONE, your daughter is comatose and will not be able to be awoken by anything other than a two year old or excessive texting. And NUMBER TWO, the last favor I did for you ended up with the following consequence:

Two Year old boy with blue toes

Those are my two year old’s toes. They are blue. Painted by a blue sharpie.

Yeah. EXACTLY.

My mother asks me this and I’m reminded of the last “family loving” post I did, where I wished the big sis, VS, a happy birthday. I also told her how amusing it would be to do a weekly post regarding our mother.

Shit My [Asian] Mother Says.

Now, as much as I enjoy how good that title rolls off the tongue, you know what would roll a whole lot better? Alliteration.

Therefore, I’m going to call this feature: Shit My [Asian] Mother Says Saturday.

YAY WEEKEND. I told you I was going to be magical. Look at that. I just made it the weekend a whole freaking day and a half early. Go ahead. Have a drink. Stay out late. Make a bad decision. Have ANOTHER drink. And then comment, because your inhibitions are down and GOD KNOWS, we all have great stories about our parents.

Today’s shit that my mother said involves TV. You know who loves TV? My mother. You know who provides great commentary to TV? My mother.

Now. For those of you who don’t know or don’t read every word, my mother is Asian. She’s from the Philippines. It’s great. She has lots of Filipino friends, who cook lots of delicious Filipino food, and they all love Charice.

This is Charice. She was on Glee. My mom does not watch Glee. She watched this episode.

So, my mom comes home from work and she is excited.

“[Filipino Coworker] told me Charice is on Glee! We have to watch it!”

“Mom,” I ask her. “Do you watch Glee?”

She shrugs. “No…but Charice is on!”

So we turn on the show. I was going to watch it anyway.

Then:

Rachel, on the show says, “Your name is Sunshine Corazon! You are from the Philippines where it is sunny all the time!”

“Yeah, except for the monsoons,” says Sunshine, also on the show.

“Oh yeah,” says my mother, to the TV. “The monsoons are bad.”

My aunt nods in agreement. “Oh yeah, the monsoons.”

I can’t even speak. I grab my phone and text VS.

L.A.: Mom is talking to the TV about how bad monsoons are.

VS: Get it on tape.

 

We’re watching Expedition Impossible. It’s like Survivor, but deadlier, and it’s like the only option we have since Mom got mad at Comcast and cancelled cable. We only have this channel because Dad needed to watch the Superbowl and bought an antenna.

Who plows by hand? FUCKING NOBODY.

So, in this particular episode, people are expected to build a plow, then plow a field. By hand. It is obviously a horrible thing to have to do.

Mom: “Oh, I can’t believe they’re doing this.”

L.A.: “Well, Mom,  there are still farmers out there. Growing  things. Plowing things.”

Mom: “Yes, but who does this with hand plows? (Scoffs) In the Philippines, my brother uses his water buffalo.”

L.A.: “WE OWN A WATER BUFFALO IN OUR FAMILY?!”

L.A.’s Aunt: “Oh no.  He owns two.

Well. Now I have to find out who I need to talk to to get a water buffalo.

Hi, I’m Kenny, and I’ll be pulling your shit today.

AND THAT concludes this week’s episode of Shit My [Asian] Mom Says Saturday. On Thursday. I hope you all enjoyed your impromptu fake weekend.

In which I actually know all the word’s to Canada’s National Anthem.

My mom is originally from the Philippines. I’m sure you know that by now. Which means that she was born there and she grew up there and she also has a large amount of family there. Not here. Although, a great number of them have come to Canada…which is super close by.

Translation: Road Trip!

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Hi, it’s my mom and me in Canada!

Really.

I was going to post about this before, but then we actually came to Canada, and let’s be honest —

Who can even think of posting when Dudley Do Right is traipsing down the street singing “Oh Canada” at the top of his lungs?

Am I right? Eh?

I’m totally kidding. Granted, while I’m in this fair country, my money is worth less, I hear millions of languages, and so many men walking past are talking about hockey that I might pee myself. But there is really no time to blog.

Plus, since Toronto is uber multicultural, my mom keeps making friends.

Strange Filipino folk, at the boat we went on, on the island we were on, at the gas station, in line for the effing bathroom…

Stranger(In my Mom’s native tongue): Oh Em Gee, you are the Philippines,  yeah?

Mom: I don’t talk to strangers. I’m white with a great tan.

Me (in English): Mom. You aren’t even that tan for an Asian. They know. They all know.

Mom (in Tagalog now): Hey! Yeah! I’m the Philippines too! Where are you from, who do you know, how strange that we have found each other in this corner of the world!

Next post. How I got another cousin.