Dollar Store Christmas

I dropped by the Dollar Store tonight and was browsing to see if there was anything I should pick up for my next charity box shipment. There was a young, not very well-off Hispanic guy in the craft aisle looking through the bunches of fake red roses and very carefully picking out the nice ones. This went on for a good 10 minutes and then, when I ended up in the craft aisle looking at stuff, he turned to me and said, "Four times seven is 28, right? Because I've got four stems and each of them has seven flowers -- that's 28 right?"

I told him he was right and he said with a rueful laugh, "You can tell I didn't really go to school." I shrugged and with a smile told him the only reason I had a clue was because I'd had some sugar and caffeine tonight. He laughed and looked at the bundle of roses in his hand. "Should I get, like, some leaves or something to make it nicer?" he asked.

"There's some baby's breath down here that I thought were really pretty," I offered. He looked puzzled, so I added, "The tiny white flowers they add to roses sometimes."

"Oh!" he exclaimed, liking the idea, and he headed over to check them out. He started selecting fake baby's breath as carefully as he had chosen his roses, and I went back to looking at watercolor paint sets and craft beads.

"I should get some ribbon or a vase to put them in, huh?" came his voice a few minutes later. He was holding the bouquet again, studying it and trying to decide what it needed to be perfect.

"If you're going to put them in a vase, they've got glass stones at the end of this aisle. They'll be really pretty in the vase and they help hold up the flowers too," I suggested. He wasn't sure what I meant by glass stones, so we walked to where the bags of shiny, colored stones were stacked beneath a selection of glass vases.

"Oh, I like that!" he said as he started sorting through the bags, looking for a color that would pair nicely with the roses. "Thanks -- it's a good thing you're here."

"Someone's getting a really nice present," I told him with a smile.

Crouched by the bottom shelf with his bouquet of dollar store roses in his hand, he gave me a brilliant smile, clearly thinking of the recipient. "She's worth it," he said sincerely.

I don't know if the flowers are for his madre or his novia, but I hope she loves them because they're the best Christmas present I've seen all season.

"Star" Struck

I just upgraded to a smartphone - an special edition Droid that looks like R2D2 from Star Wars and has a bunch of Star Wars-themed wallpapers and features. Some of my coworkers were checking it out.

Co-worker 1: A Star Trek phone is so you. It's perfect.

Co-worker 2: Yeah, you're such a Star Trek fan.

Callie (trying to speak diplomatically): Clearly my work here isn't done, because I am a big Trek fan, but this is a Star Wars phone.

Both co-workers: Oh. Yeah.

Callie: If you were talking to any other fan, you guys would be soooo much trouble right now . . .

The Letter of the Law

My sister, a friend, and I were dropping off Alex and one of his friends at the mall when the following exchange took place.

Chelsea: And I better not get any calls from security!

Alex (in a thoughtful tone): So that means we can get into trouble as long as we can outrun security so they can't call you. 

Chelsea's friend (deadpan): Yes—we just don't want to get the call.

Alex's friend (sagely): Oh, well—we're both Mexican so we'll just take off running and hop the fence . . .

Things I Never Needed to Know, Part 2

Text from Chelsea: Did you know that you can use cheesy poofs in fondue?

Reply from Callie: That text just redefined the phrase "apropos of nothing" . . . I don't know what to say.

Next Up: Polident and Metamucil

I'd tweaked my neck and the resulting muscle tightness was causing me a lot of discomfort and aggravation. While en route to the drug store I was on the phone with my older sister Chelsea.

Callie: I'm feeling all old and decrepit because I have to go buy a heating pad thing tonight to help keep my shoulder and neck from tightening up. Not an electric one like the kind you have—one of the disposable, adhesive kinds.

Chelsea: Oh yeah, that brand . . . Hey, wait! You just called me OLD AND DECREPIT!!

Callie: Whaaa? . . . (lightbulb goes on) . . . Oh my God, I DID! Bwahahahahahahaha!!!

I was laughing so hard I'm lucky I didn't drive across the center divider. Chelsea wasn't sure which was worse—that I called her old and decrepit, or that it was unintentional and evolved naturally from the course of our conversation.

Multi-generational Magical Mystery Tour

Jon and Alex have been exposed to a wide range of music, but the Rock Band video game has gotten Jon seriously hooked on at least one set of music legends.

Callie: Jon, who's your favorite band?

Jon (super excited): I love The Beatles! They're so cool! (His shoulders suddenly slump and his face gets sad.) But they're all dead.

Pops and Callie: WHAT?!!

Jon (perking back up): Is the girl still . . .

Pops and Callie: WHAT?!! The girl??!

Callie (thinking hard): Oh honey, Yoko Ono was married to John Lennon, but she was never a Beatle. And yes, she's still alive.

Jon (excitedly): So is John still . . . ?

Callie: Sorry honey, but he's dead.

Jon deflates once again, clearly bummed out.

Pops: Only two of them are dead—John Lennon and George Hamilton.

Callie: WHAT?!! Dad, George Hamilton's the actor with the orange spray tan. George Harrison's the Beatle.

Pops: There you go—George Harrison. He's dead.

Callie: Jon, Ringo Starr and Paul McCartney are still very much alive.

Jon (just about exploding with excitement): Paul's still alive! Cool!!

Not Exactly a Baller

Alex was very proud of making it onto his high school basketball team in his freshman year. Of course, he didn't get much playing time since he was low man on the totem pole. The basketball coaches were chatting with some parents one afternoon, and Alex was brought into the conversation.

Coach: And this is Alex, who just joined the team this year.

Parent: Good job Alex! So what position do you play?

Alex (with a knowing laugh): I'm a freshman—my position's "left bench."

Fine Young Cannibals

When I was no more than 7 or 8 years old, there was this one place in my hometown we used to drive by all the time en route to other places. The building had mission-style architecture and its sign had Spanish/Mexican-style tilework. Sometimes there'd be small crowds of nicely dressed people hanging around outside the main doors. To me, it seemed like it must be a pretty happenin' place, so as we drove by one evening, I asked my family about it.

Callie: How come we never go to that Mexican restaurant? It looks nice.

Mom: What restaurant are you talking about? There's no Mexican restaurant around here.

Callie (pointing): That one.

Mom (freaking out): Ayyyyyyy! Dios mio! That's Santos Robinson Mortuary!

Callie (totally confused as to why she's freaking out): It's . . . not a good restaurant?

Mom: Do you KNOW what MORTUARY means?

Callie: I thought he was Mr. Santos and Mr. Robinson's friend . . . who runs the restaurant with them?

And that was the night I found out that no, Virginia, there's no "Señor Mortuary."

You Know You're Asian-American When . . .

. . . you place an order at a Pilipino restaurant and the conversation ends thusly . . .

Waitress: Thank you ma'am. And would you like to try our fish balls today? We have two kinds.

Callie: Oh, that's okay. No thank you.

Waitress: Okay ma'am.

A few minutes later, I realized that most folks wouldn't have been quite so unfazed by an offer of fish balls.

O Ye of Little Faith

While a co-worker and I were walking back from lunch, an all-black feral cat and an all-white feral cat ran across our path.

Callie: It's Basement Cat and Ceiling Cat!!

Co-worker: What?

Callie: *sad*

Hello . . . Oh No.

My sister Chelsea, discussing tattoos years ago with her now ex-husband.

Chelsea: If I get a tattoo, I'd want to get a Chinese character on my hip.

Ex-husband: A Chinese character? You mean, like, the cat with the big head?

Chelsea: WTF?!!

And now you know why he's her ex-husband.

All in the Family

Calvin: Pops, the groceries are still on the counter!

Pops: Oh, I thought Nikki put them away.

Calvin (jokingly reproachful): You can't count on Nikki for everything, Pops. That's my job! Is your name Calvin? . . . . . . Oh, wait.

Yes, Pops' name is Calvin—Calvin Sr.

Young Grasshopper Has Much to Learn

My sister, Chelsea, and my oldest nephew, Alex, are having Mediterranean food for lunch. This leads to talk of Greek mythology, Greek history, and eventually, Roman history.

Chelsea: . . . that's why you'll hear people mention the Ides of March—you know, when Brutus killed Caesar.

Alex (forkful of food suspended in midair, looking utterly bemused): A Buddhist killed Caesar???

Lost in Translation

Folks who grew up in the Philippines and speak the native language(s) of that country tend to have a hard time pronouncing certain consonants. "F" and "v," for example, tend to come out as "p" and "b." And, just as English speakers sometimes do, the hard "t" occassionally will be dropped from the end of words.

Earlier this year, I was visiting Pops in the Philippines and he was telling me about a town we were driving through.

Pops: Look around—you can see dat dis is a piss-poor town.

Me (outraged, thinking that it's not the residents fault if they're piss poor before realizing my dad wouldn't say that): I'm sorry—what kind of town is this again Pops?

Pops (enunciating carefully): It's a. Pish. Poor. Town.

Me (thinking hard till a lightbulb comes on): Oh! It's a fish port town! They ship fish!

I don't think of Pops as having an accent—to me, it's just my dad's voice—so these occassional reminders always take me by surprise and crack me up.

Son of a Dog

So Alex, Jon, Chelsea, and I are having Sunday brunch at a Mexican restaurant with family friends. Our waiter drops off a round of waters and as soon as he walks away, Alex points out that, according to the server's name tag, we are being waited on by Jesus Himself. Much discussion ensues about whether that makes the water we're now sipping holy water, if the lemon wedges in the glasses of water are also holy, and if the tortillas Jesus will eventually bring to the table are an acceptable substitute for Communion wafers. We also discuss whether being served holy food by none other than Jesus means that we can all skip church for a very long time to come, or if this conversation means we're all incredibly damned and need to get to church posthaste.

Eventually Jesus comes back to our table and, after telling us the specials, asks if we'd like to order or if we'd prefer the buffet. Our friend Jeff leans back in his seat, crosses his arms, fixes Jesus with a very serious look and says, "I don't know. What would you do?"

A whole tableful of people almost snarfed their holy water at that one.

(No, Jesus did not pick up on that particular turn of phrase. And yes, we tipped him very, very well when we left.)

There Can Be Only One

My sister and oldest nephew sit down to watch a made-for-television Highlander movie. The movie begins and the theme song starts playing.

Alex: Oh, I remember this from when we watched the show when I was little. I still like this song.

Chelsea: You know it's by Queen, right?

Alex: Yeah, I know Mom.

Two hours later, the movie finishes and the theme song plays over the end credits.

Alex (turns to his mom with a total WTF expression): This is by Prince?!?!

 

Highlander - The Complete Series (Seasons 1-6)

Next Time, We'll Harmonize

Once again in the car with the whole family, this time going over a bumpy stretch of freeway -- the kind you get when a lot of big rigs drive that freeway all the time. 

Calvin (voice vibrating from the road): AAAAaaaaAAAAaaaa . . . Everybody!

Four more voices instantly join in: AAAAaaaaAAAAaaaaAAAAaaaaAAAAaaaa . . .

It should be noted that only two of those five voices belonged to people who are still legally considered children. :)

His Kung Fu Is Better Than Yours

A few years ago with the whole family in the car and my very young nephew, Jon, excitedly telling us about his first taekwondo belt test.

Jon: And then I had to break the boards. I had to use a hammer punch and an ass kick.

Chelsea (shooting Pops a "don't encourage him" look as Pops tries to stifle a laugh): Honey, are you sure that's the name of the kick?

Jon (earnestly): Yes, Mommy! I broke the first board with the hammer punch. And then I had to break the other board with my foot, with an ass kick.

At this point, we were all trying and failing to contain giggles, and Jon proudly continued telling us about earning his yellow belt by breaking boards with his hammer punch and "ass kick" for another five minutes. He meant this, if you're curious.

Nailed It That Time

Me showing off my trendy new manicure to my sister-in-law Nikki while my sister Chelsea is sitting nearby.

Me: They'd never seen this style before so I had to explain it a few times. Your people weren't too impressed with the matte top coat though; they thought I was crazy.

Chelsea (shocked and horrified): "Your people?!!?!" Nikki's not even Vietnamese! She's Chinese! "Your people?!!"

Me: Um, Nikki referred me to her manicure place. So they're "her people," her nail people.

(For the record, the wonderful ladies at the nail shop are Vietnamese, so my sister was right about that part anyway . . .)

Things I Never Needed to Know, Part 1

Calvin: Where are we going to lunch?

Chelsea: I'm taking you guys to a tapas bar.

Calvin: Hey Pops! Have you ever been to a tapas bar?

Pops (with a derisive snort): Of course I've been to a topless bar, son.

But Would the Military Take Him?

So ever since my nephew Alex was about yay high, Chelsea's jokingly threatened to ship him off to Swiss military boarding school when he stepped out of line. Once he hit his pre-teen and teen years though, the chant of "Swiss. Military. Boarding school." became more of a mental lifeline for my sister. Especially on those days when Alex was "not" having an attitude.

Because there's an LOL cat for everything, I made this one for Chelsea a few months ago, complete with a direct quote from her firstborn.

Nutty Nuts

My sister, Chelsea, and her teenage son, Alex, in a Vietnamese restaurant.

Alex (whispers): Mom, we're the only non-Asians here!

Chelsea (to her 1/4 Pilipino son): We're Asian too, you know.

A: Oh yeah. That's right. I have walnut-shaped eyes.

C: Oh reeeeeally?

A: Yes, I have walnut-shaped eyes.

C: Hand me my phone. I have got to tell your Tita this.

A (suddenly clutching his mom's cell phone, thinking really hard, knowing something's horribly, horribly wrong): Wait . . . did I say "walnut?"

C: Yup! Phone!

A: Noooo! (loses phone to his mom, who calls me)

C: Callie, your nephew said . . .

A (protesting): But there have to be people with walnut-shaped eyes somewhere!

C (finishes telling the story to me): Uh, no. That would be a negative.

A: When I grow up, I'm going to have kids with walnut-shaped eyes just to prove you wrong.

Me (over the phone): Well, he is a big, brown nut, so he's not that far off from the truth.

A (gasps in mock indignation): I might be a nut, but I'm not nutty!

Me: Alex, in the immortal words of J.K. Rowling, you're "nutty as squirrel poo . . ."