If you call my brother and sister-in-law's answering machine, you're greeted with recorded message by my niece Zoe (age 6). She does a good job rattling off the regulars... "We're not able to answer your call, please leave your name..." so on and so forth. My sister-in-law wanted both of her kids to contribute to the outgoing message, so after Zoe was done she got Ethan (age 3) to provide his contribution:

"I AM A COOKIE!"

Good job, man. :D

And, if you ask him what kind of cookie he is, he'll promptly respond with, "CHOCOLATE MINT!"

Just got back from treating my parents to their first Chicken and Waffle dinner over at Home of Chicken 'N Waffles in Oakland.

Represent mothereffin' FOOD COMA. If you haven't had this glorious gift of the culinary gods, you've been missing out. LA heads, you have no excuse since I think there are about 4 or 5 Roscoe's Chicken & Waffles down there. NO EXCUSE. Bay Area folks, HOCW is located right next to Jack London Square. It's the perfect blend of salty and sweet. (Still can't get used to the grits, though, maybe if they weren't drowning in butter...)

When I was trying to describe to my parents that yes, it's chicken and waffles, yes, you eat them together, and no, it's not just for breakfast they just kind of looked at me weird and hesitantly agreed to try it. Of course, two bites into his dinner (one of the waffle and one of the fried chicken dipped in gravy) my Dad said, "Ooooh, this is good." BLA-DOW! And, yes, Moms liked it too.

On top of that, I've gotten unexpected Valentine gifts from kitkat_nap and wagashi... doot! Thanks guys! I think this is the first time I've gotten a Valentine gift in... shit... 4 years? Thanks thanks thanks! :D

I call myself a photographer-by-luck, and I guess I just got really lucky today.

My niece had her 6th birthday party at a gymnastics/indoor rock climbing place with a dozen or so other kids. On top of being able to jump on these huge trampolines, they had a face painter and a balloon artist.

Here's Zoe showing off one of her gifts in front of her parents' big screen TV with the Superbowl on. I'm predicting Olympics in 2018. Holler!

I got a bunch of other really cool pics of the kids while they were running around and getting their faces painted. I'll post them tonight 'cause they are so freakin' cute.

Last night I picked up my parents at the airport after their month-long jaunt in the Motherland. On the way home, between stories of how much food they ate, my Dad asked me, "Did you eat yet?"

"Nope," I replied, realizing how hungry I was. (All those tales of Auntie Always' cooking can get to a girl.)

"I want a hamburger," my Dad said.

"Yeaaaaah," piped up my Mom. You could literally hear the drool starting up in my parents' mouths as this exchange took place.

So my parents' first meal of the year in the United States? Carl's Jr., baby. Carl's Mothereffin' Double Western Bacon Cheeseburger Jr.

Yes, that picture has nothing to do with this entry. But, it's Exoticism Iced Bronze Rare Tanning Oil! C'mon, how could I not take a picture and show you guys?

My entire family (I'm talking Mom, Dad, older brother, sister-in-law, niece & nephew) and I just had a session.

A DANCE DANCE REVOLUTION SESSION.

We're celebrating Christmas tonight since my parents have to be dropped off at the airport tomorrow night to catch their flight to the Motherland. While the "normal" shit was pretty blah (you know, dinner, opening presents and whatnot) it was all made up for when my Dad got on my niece's new DDR pad and tried to wreck shop to that remix of "I Will Survive."

And then my brother donned my Ichiko wig and attempted rock star status on Guitar Hero to Iron Man.

Seriously, if I remember anything about this Christmas, it'll be those two things. Happy holidays again, y'all!

I've discovered the secret to holiday shopping at the mall:
Arrive an hour and a half prior to closing on a weeknight (10pm nowadays since they're on holiday hours).

By that time most of the families are settling their kids in for bed, the youngsters have been called home because it's a school night and all the mall employees hate life and wish every single customer dead.

This means that there's parking (I found a spot not 15 feet away from one of the entrances), no crowds (bought stuff in 4 different stores with no line) and no pressuring employees ('cause they all just want you to die).

Eat it, presents, I'm almost done with you!

( Who's left... )

The next time I go to the mall, I'm totally trading in those random anime DVDs for Guitar Hero.

Kanye West show tonight! I'm gonna "get down, girl, go 'head get down." AWWW YEAH!

My Dad is currently playing "Don't Cha" by The Pussycat Dolls downstairs in the family room.

You know, the song I was talking about a while back on here that goes, "Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me, don't cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me?"

I'm not exactly sure how I feel about this.

But I do know that tomorrow morning, before my Dad wakes up, I'm going to replace that burned CD with that song on it and put in a compilation of my favorite Westside 'til I Die songs. Think he'll dig it? C'mon, they sample Rodger Troutman a lot... and my Dad loves him some Rodger Troutman!

It'll work. I swear.

In the meantime, I think I'm going to get out of the house for a bit before my Dad starts playing Usher. Or Ciara. Or Lil Jon and The Eastside Boys.

WHAT!!!?!!!

OKAAAAY!!!

My relatives asked me to say some words at my Grandma Miring's funeral earlier today. I angsted over it a lot last night because I wasn't sure what to say, but I managed to come up with something right before the mass started. And, since one of my Aunties wants a copy I figured I'd post it here too if any of you are interested... ( Read more... )

I was able to maintain my composure until the moment I got up to the podium to speak. I was hoping to deliver this message in a happier tone (because I truly believe she is happier now), but I got choked up. Ah well, I'm sure my grandma understands.

Rest in Peace
Grandma Miring
1906 - 2005

The last real conversation I had with my Grandma was about three years ago. It was summer and, at the time, my Grandma was still somewhat mobile and was still able to recognize me by sight.

We had lunch together and she asked the usual questions that grandparents ask their grandkids when they haven't seen them in a while... how was school, if I was working, if I had a boyfriend... I confided in her that there was a boy that I was interested in, but that he wasn't my boyfriend per se. She smiled and asked if he was a good boy and I replied that he was.

Turns out that not long after she would relay that story to my parents who then would give me the third degree on who the mystery guy was and why I never said anything to them. I remember mentally thanking my Grandma for spilling the beans.

That same day I visited her I remember getting caught off-guard at how frail she was, how much of an effort it was for her to move around. This is the same lady that, at her 80th birthday party, did a hula dance in front of a bunch of guests. The same lady that could easily turn any of my relatives back into their childlike selves with just a scowl of disapproval. I remember her telling me to pull out the old photo albums from that birthday party while I was there, something she asked everyone to do who visited her, something that she had asked me to do the last time I was there not a month before. In those pages were photos of her dressed to the nines in a sequined gown with butterfly sleeves, smiling with the guests, dancing on the dance floor.

I was never very close to my Grandma, as my last living grandparent it probably shouldn't have been this way... but by the time I was old enough to realize the importance of her in my life she had already started to forget who I was.

She passed away tonight, after over a year of living in a care home, slowly forgetting her grandkids and then her children. Her kidneys failed on her first, then the rest of her decided it was time to go as well. It's strange... I almost want to say that she was getting ready to go sooner, but something must've held her here for so much longer. Whatever it was, I hope she found it... I hope whatever she held on for was accomplished.

I love you, Grandma... rest in peace.

In my 26 years of existence I've put my parents through typical, and not so typical, shit that comes from having a daughter. We've had our share of arguments, disagreements and "discussions." (And by discussions I mean, "Do as I say or you're getting it, young lady.")

There was a time when I detested anything to do with the two old farts (and I say that out of love), and I remember threatening them with a retirement home as a teenager when they would discuss what would happen to them when they got too old to take care of themselves.

Times have changed, I've gotten older (and wiser?), my parents have softened and we've come to an understanding that I'm just weird, but that my weirdness had to have sprung from somewhere (them).

Nowadays, there's not a day that goes by that I don't realize how blessed I am to have parents so understanding, patient and supportive.

There's something to be said about hearing your Dad offer to "make things better" when he knows you're more than capable of doing it yourself. Sometimes you just need to lean back and rest your head on a pillar of support that's been there since you born, but maybe forgot about here and there...

You know how they say that the older you get the more you become like one of your parents? So while I got my Mom's thick ass hair, bad eyesight and love for shopping, I'd say I'm definitely leaning towards my Dad's side in terms of personality.

My relationship with Dad has improved tons since the days in high school when he used to get mad at me for yelling out his car window to say bye to my friends because it wasn't "ladylike." We used to go at it when I was younger, man, I was this alien creature with mood swings and stubbornness to match his own that he didn't have any idea what to do with. A girl?! Going through puberty?! AAAHHH... what is that?!! Why is she acting so weird?!! What happened to my "Baby Girl?"

Granted, he probably still doesn't understand me (You're going to be wearing a what to a convention?! And you need a sword?! ... okay.), but I think we've come to a mutual understanding that we're both just equally weird in our own rights. I had to have gotten the weirdness from somewhere and I'm more suspect to believe it was from him than from my Mom.

Nowadays, whenever I go to the parental units' house, my Dad and I will exchange stories over stupid shit we read in the news or we'll watch HGTV together and talk about all the new gadgets my parents should include in their 5-years-in-progress kitchen remodeling project. My Dad and I are old school This Old House nerds, so you can imagine what commentary is like when we watch stuff like Trading Spaces together:

Dad: Ohhh man, if they use that method to fasten that door on it'll fall off in 3 days!
Me: Yeah, they totally should've used that one hinge that they were talking about in The New Yankee Workshop instead!

See? Nerds.

Happy Father's Day, Dad!