my thank you to the loser

For the last two weeks, wifey and I ended each week partying with friends over booze and good music. It was F.U.N.

It was fun until one such loser tried to make a move on my wife. I admit, back in the days I also went through a stage where you hang out in bars, waiting for an opportunity to meet nice girls and hope that one thing will lead to another. But I had the delicadesa to at least give respect to someone else's girl, I don't go barging in if she is with someone else.

But this loser has some balls... what balls he has to really go out of the way to get my wife's number even if the two of us were already heading to the car, honestly I could have smacked you with the beer bottle I had in my hand. But lucky for you I did not, because I don't feel a bit insecure. You see man, you don't need to remind me that I have a pretty sexy wife, but thank you anyway, you made yourself look like a dumb-a** desperate loser.

Thanks to you, because that night I went home happy, reassured and had a blast in bed.

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Allison - my sexy wife, drool you losers!

final dose:
be thankful to those who play dorks, they can be useful sometimes.

 

when zai begins (asking questions)

I have been posting some melodramatic stuff lately that I'm beginning to think that soon, a big beer bottle will fall over me. It's a healthy way though to release emotions. But today, I am not feeling that emotional; instead, I'm in a big wondering state.

You see, my son and I have this friendly-fatherly kind of relationship, which I think should be the case with all parents (as what has been lectured in the recent seminar I attended.) Our little boy can confide to us anything that he wants to share - he talks a lot, plays a lot and asks questions a lot, which I guess are signs that he's one smart toddler.

But what do you do when you're confronted with questions from a four year old, questions that you wouldn't be expecting from a four year old. Questions ranging from how I was made, when can I have a wife, what will I be when I'm a grown up.

So over lunch, Zai begins:
you know what dad, i think when i grow up i will not live here anymore, because like you, you are not living with lolo anymore. maybe dad, i'll be like you and i will have one like mommy and i'll share my toys with my son and i will do magic with my finger and my son will say wow daddy. so dad, how old are you?
And so I answered then he continued.
ok, i'm four years old. Then he started counting on his fingers. so i'm almost ten and then i'll be ten more and i'll be a daddy, i'm so near being a daddy now. how will i have a son dad? how to make my son?
I stayed silent and he keeps on talking...
dad i want to be a drummer and an architect and i want to dance also and sing and paint also. how to be a good drummer dad? i want to drum so hard so people will see me and they will say wow and i'll be onstage and people will look at me playing drums so well. i will eat this chicken so fast dad so i will be big soon and be a daddy soon. did you eat so well dad that you are so big now? what if i grow faster than josh and i'll show josh my son and josh will play with my son also and you will be lolo now and... and will you say wow to me dad? and you will say wow angelo you're bigger than josh now. are you so proud of me? i will be proud to my son also...
And I interrupted. Go eat now.

The only response I could muster was telling my son not to think about growing up so fast so he can play more with his toys. I was dumbfounded. In the middle of the dining table, my son bombarded me with questions. Which got me wondering, did I have these same kinds of questions too when I was four years old? On the other hand, it was ironically funny because at a time I should be giving answers to my son, he made me wonder at all these. So I told myself, I'm also just a boy and I thought I knew it all.

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zai angelo @ one, worry-free.

final dose:
when kids want to grow up, and grown-ups want to be kids, it's a crazy world.

 

please, no pressures

The palm of my hands sweat every time I need to beat a deadline; my boss notices how wet my computer mouse gets when he checks on my drawings. But my whole system remains focused and I deliver what is due.

In real life though, I shrug off pressures and act in a calm, Vito Corleone kinda way. That is my front. But deep inside I am struck, struck in a manner that leaves me speechless and stuttering.

A year ago on this very same month, I had the same dilemma and up until today, it is still without any concrete solution. Days will pass, weeks and months will pass too, and this shall also come to pass, but until it shall be fully dealt with, this will resurface time and time again. I will not give up; I won't lose hope.

We will get to where we want to be; you will have your time.

A year ago n this very same month, there was this conversation. Now another one has been added. This time, although innocently brought up, it still adds to what seems like a brewing pressure on my position. This shall be fully dealt with and the moment will come when we have aplenty. I only wish that hope will always be alive.

We will get to where we want to be, time is on our hands and within our grasp.

The palm of my hands may need to sweat, but I shall remain focused and will deliver.

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Zai & Alli, the picture will always look bright with the two of you around

final dose:
pleased to have these pressures

 

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