the three strikes to end the year: 2005, you're OUT!

(now wasn't that a really long, unfunny title for a blog entry? no need to email me your affirmation.)

the time: new year's eve
the setting: dinner table
the characters: goosey (g) and blog author (ba)

(i wanted to give an explanation after each mini-story for why these one-liners are funny, but decided to respect your intelligence.)

STRIKE ONE:
g: what are we going to drink tonight?
ba: do we have champagne?
g: we have wine with SPARKLERS.

STRIKE TWO:
g: i watched a dvd with juancho.
ba: which one?
g: the one with BILL THE CARPENTER.

STRIKE THREE:
g: let's taste that bread!
ba: ok, have a piece.
g: what do you call this again? MOCACCIA?

[after laughing loud enough to be heard above the usual new year racket, ba pauses and faces g with a serious look]

ba: mother, please, if you have the slightest bit of self-respect left in you, i urge you to refrain from saying anything else before the stroke of midnight.

she willingly agreed.

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here's to a funnier 2006!

37 years and still going

today is my parents' 37th wedding anniversary. in the car on our way to lunch, we listened to a newly purchased "Christmas With the Rat Pack" (i highly recommend this). my mother was suddenly possessed by the spirit of Christmas present and began to sing along:


through the years we all will be together

if the fates allow

hang a shining star

upon the highest bough

and have yourself

a merry little Christmas ...

... TREE


my mother: a bottomless source of amusement. to her credit, she tried to muffle the last vowel sound in an effort to disguise the error. to my credit, i unhesitatingly pointed an accusing finger and laughed my brain out.

happy anniversary to dad and goosey* – here's to more years of unintentional comedy.

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*evolution: mama -> mother -> mother goose -> goose -> goosey.

where the heart is

i'm finally back home – the land of sticky heat, rude drivers, people with no sense of personal space (and while i'm on the topic, explain to me why a fully grown human would push another entering an airplane with SEATING ASSIGNMENTS), and strangers who are afraid of common courtesy but not of incessant small talk.

i am unbelievably happy to be home. and that, for once, wasn't sarcasm.

calling a spade a spade

imposter shades
Originally uploaded by odeguzman.

this was one of the stalls at a new york street fair we stumbled upon a few weeks back.

honesty. gotta love it.

moved by mascots

seeing mickey mouse at the magnificent mile lights festival last saturday was a thrill, to put it simply – partly because it was amazing that we had a good view, in spite of the 4 trillion chicago peeps who were also out that night, and partly because it felt like Christmas already.

but mostly because i get emotional around cuteness. and i don't mean orlandobloom-type cuteness. but then again ...

back to the issue at hand.

i remember when we took juancho (then still speech-free) to the mall so he could see elmo and some other sesame street characters. it was a long wait, but we were patient and stayed for what seemed like a very long time, especially for the one actually CARRYING juanch, who then weighed more than the legal limit of infant weight.

suddenly we saw him. elmo. waving from the third floor.

at that time, i felt an inexplicable but inevitable feeling growing inside my chest (no, it wasn't phlegm), and my tears started flowing.

of course, my younger sister (also an adult, technically) who was right beside me was crying too. "it's elmo!" we whispered reverently, in a tone that should be reserved for the second coming.

(incidentally, juancho cried too, but i suspect it was related to hunger.)

this kind of phenomenon has no explanation. in the same way that you cannot explain why fully grown people converge at a parade to wave wildly and scream at a mascot, as though they were really seeing goofy or donald duck or mickey.

it's crazy. especially because everyone knows the real mickey is in anaheim.