Piñata

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There are many things I've done that I will never do again. (No, this doesn't include skinny dipping. Haha.) One of them is making a pinata. For one thing, I have forgotten how to type the tilde (enye). For another, it's just too much work. I'd just as soon pay someone else to make one for me. 

However, I did have fun today helping S make the pinata for her class. It wasn't the work I enjoyed so much as the company. Her hubby S came out with their new camcorder to record the phenomenon of me working and helping out, complete with a little commentary. These things should be recorded, as they might never happen again in this lifetime.

It's funny how much I've gotten used to over-analyzing that I couldn't figure out very simple things, such as cutting out pieces of colored crepe paper to cover pinata with. I sat there for a couple moments contemplating the best way to maximize the crepe paper whereas S took a second to look at it and cut it out. In the end, he had to make stencils that I used as a guide because I still couldn't comprehend it.

Because I am a genius. Ay, me.

***
In another "subtle" attempt to lure me into the kitchen to cook, my parents have purchased a new toaster/oven/roaster/not-a-microwave. (My father is very much against microwaves.)

Honestly, I'd hate to start cooking for my family simply because I know they will love my cooking (sorry, I can't hear your protests over the roaring sound of my arrogance. Take a number.) and will ask me to cook on a regular basis. 

Hell. No.

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In other news, I have been invited to a gathering of Filipino expat children. I'd like to go; I haven't hung out with Pinoys for a while. My Tagalog is rusty, and I miss that Pinoy humor. 

The only thing that's stopping me is my Maranao family's reputation. Filipinos tend to talk, and the last thing I want is for my Maranao family to get wind of that time I went partying. I can just imagine the amount of gasping that will reverberate through the numerous Maranao aunts just waiting for my wrong move.

And this sounds like A Very Wrong Move.

In the words of that one singer I can't remember in that one song I can't remember what title either,

"Should I stay or should I go?"

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