Kiddie Laughs Around The World (Compiled Laughs)

__________

It's true that children brighten up a home.
They never turn off the lights.
___________

A mother was teaching her three year old daughter The Lord's Prayer. For several evenings at bedtime, she repeated it after her mother. One night she said she was ready to solo. The mother listened with pride, as she carefully said each word right up to the end..."And lead us not into temptation", she prayed, "but deliver us some e-mail, Amen."
___________

A little boy, at a wedding looks at his mom and says, "Mommy, why does the bride wear white?"
His mom replies, "The bride is in white because she's happy and this is the happiest day of her life."
The boys thinks about this, and then says, "Well then why is the groom wearing black..."
__________

"And what will you do when you grow up to be as big as me?" asked the father of his little son.
"Diet."
__________

'Grandad, do you know how to croak?'
'I don't think so, Steven, why?"
'Because Dad says he'll be rich when you do.'
__________

A woman got on a bus with seven children. The bus conductor asked: 'Are these all yours lady? Or is it a picnic?'
'They're all mine,' she replied. 'And it's no picnic!'
__________

Eleven year old's environmental studies essay on the effect of oil pollution: When my mom opened a tin of sardines last night it was full of oil and all the sardines were dead.
__________

Twelve year old's response to the question, Why does a surgeon wear a mask when he performs an operation?:  
 "So if he makes a muck of it the patient won't know who did it."
__________

A woman called her co-worker at home. Her co-worker's 4-year old daughter answered the phone and informed her that her mom couldn't accept the call at the moment. Woman then gave careful instructions to the little girl `Okay, just tell your mom Olga called. Write this down, it's O-L-G-A. Got it?'

There was long silence on the other end of the line when suddenly the little girl asked `How do you make a letter O?'
___________

END.

Molds On My Wall

From a hurtling leap through space, with prolonged euphoria, I find myself suspended, an instant away from falling in some dramatic way, in an emotional explosion. Great memories do turn into molds that prickle up the wall and creep across the ceiling in speckled clumps. So I stand on a chair and scrub them back as though I am stripping paint. I strip them off, every great memory, rooting in my mind wee smidges of hope. Now and then they float down the hall to my bed and my clothes, I smell like garden shed on those days.

Call me when the world turns a new cycle. But for now, let me strip memories like molds on the wall.

 

I wrote this piece sometime last year when my whole world seemed moldy and upside down. But the world is round and indeed, it turned another cycle. Now I find myself on top of it with newly painted walls. Molds have been stripped, new good memories come into play, and I smell like cherry blossom these days.

FRENCH CONNECTION: Bra Talk

Not a day in twenty-one years that I had not looked forward to going home and taking off my bra. This is probably the most liberating part of my every day. Unhooking the bra is like unleashing myself from the tightness needed for support. Wearing bra is just plain torture. Every second is an ordeal trying to find that perfect bra alignment that would make me comfortable. A pull on the straps and cups here and there, there's just no way it's going to feel better and it's the same all throughout the day, every crippling day.

Bras have become my symbol for female repression which is ironic because the genius behind these cups and straps is a french woman, Herminie Cadolle. Cadolle's bust-ling enterprise since 1889 pretty much shaped the ideal of what breasts should be. Push-up bras suggest that breasts should be firm, perky and never hang loosely or saggy. Maximizers can be brutal implying that you can cheat your way to getting the cleavage you desire because men like them colossal. Those microfiber T-shirt brassieres with moulded cups simply imply that you can be confident having your nipples hidden. Bras have become a hidden tool of some twisted ideology reducing woman to the kind of breasts they have. Bras cover the entire breasts which simply implies that they should be hidden. Why should we hide the cups that fed us during infancy? Why should we suffer just because we have mammary glands? Are breasts something to be embarrased about? Why do we subject our breasts to all these oppressions - covering, hiding, strapping, pushing up, and for pete's sake, we even wire them.

Men will largely benefit from a braless society, I bet one hundred and ten percent. It could be a testorone feast. Arguably, excitement will die with prolonged exposure. If you're so used to seeing breast after breast every hour on the hour, chances are you'd look at them no more precious than a basketball. My whole point is, there's a need for a cultural revolution to change this societal norm of having breasts and nipples hidden. It can be done but it has to be a collective effort and there's no guarantee there won't be any painful consequences along the way.

I still wear oppressive bras until now. I realized I'm not ready to wage a revolution if half of the female population is not ready for it. I'm not about to do it alone. I have a Catholic upbringing and my morals are reduced to being ashamed when everybody else is. But I'm very hopeful that the likes of Sarah Jessica Parker, Jennifer Anniston and Meg Ryan who have been braless in their movies, would inspire other women out there to do just the same.

I may not go entirely braless, but I'm inching my way to replacing my bra. Recently, I have been using silicon nipple tapes which I found in Bench counters for only P179.75. They are made of skin color silicon gelatin and allows full concealment while the unique shape contours to the breast. They are great for wearing under any type of clothing with sheer material. Economical and convenient, they are self-adhesive, washable and re-usable.

Silicon tapes feel much comfortable, more liberating though not entirely. And this is me, like most intelligent women out there, compromising at the moment.

A Ride Down Memory Lane

I feel nostalgic from time to time. Maybe it's my age catching up with me. Yet, I feel comfort when experiences of the past come as vivid as today's events. I go in silent guilty mourning realizing that I can never turn back time. But then, with nostalgia, the feelings stay the same and that's what truly matters.

Nostalgia always have triggers and vagrants are one of them.  Homeless people remind me of Dante, a vagrant who frequented our neighborhood when I was a kid. We didn't really know his name because he could not talk. Our neighbor named him Dante because he resembled Dante Varona, a Filipino action star famous at that time for jumping from San Juanico Bridge in one of his movies.

 The vagrant in the photo reminds me so much of Dante.

Every kid in the neighborhood was afraid of Dante because he was dirty with thick beard and foul smell and there would always be flies following him around. Whenever he would walk right through our street, my friends and I would hide inside our houses, vowing not to come out until he was gone. But the old people in the neighborhood, like our parents, would always be nice to Dante. They would give him food, new clothes and new cardboards and plastics (which he would carry around serving as umbrellas and blankets).  Whenever there's a party in the neighborhood, Dante would always be invited at the back kitchen. After getting his favorites (barbeque and puto), he'd split like a shy boy. 

We had no idea where Dante would sleep at night. He would only be visible during daytime. He was harmless but nonetheless, kids were scared of him. I never got close to him physically because I would run away from him whenever he was around. But I remember, our vicious dog Brownette who barked at everyone including my siblings, would never bark at Dante. I wondered this in my sleep and tried to observe them one afternoon. I found out Dante would feed our dog with bones which he would collect from every house in the neighborhood. There was surge of guilt inside me. Dante fed my dog while I could not even get anywhere near my dog. And anywhere near him.

That summer was the last time we ever saw Dante in the neighborhood. Everyone assumed he was dead. I secretly mourned. I was not sure why but it was as if I lost someone special.  Maybe I did.

Originally Written: July 4, 2008

Re-Edited: September 16, 2009

Spoofs from Manila

Want to send kisses over You Tube?

T-Shirt by Spoofs Limited

An American's Observations on Jakarta

A very good friend lived in Jakarta for three months.  On his second month, he made an account of some observations about the city that may seem unimportant to most of us but can be very interesting to know.

What I Know So Far

By: TSJ from San Jose, Ca.

I have been in Indonesia for two months now and here are some things I've heard, some things I've seen:

DRIVING

• Because traffic is a constant here, one must always allow themselves 1 hour to go anywhere (especially to eat or go to the mall).
• It is common for cars to have 2 people in them (the driver and the passenger). So there is a 3-in-1 law which is enforced to lessen cars on the roads just like our carpooling law in the US. So there are people in the streets who offer themselves, as the 3rd person, in exchange for money.
• Gas is about $0.40 per liter, which comes out to around $0.10 per gallon.
• There are a lot more motorcycles than cars here in Jakarta.  They are like annoying pests, coming out of nowhere to bother you  that you want to swat them but can't do anything about them.
• There is a helmet law.
• The car that bumps into another car is the one at fault. However, a motorcycle that bumps into a car is not at fault. Actually, the car is at fault. My cousin fell victim to this. Law protects motorcyclists.
• Driving is done on the wrong side of the road, the left side. So sitting shotgun is like sitting on the driver's side in the US without the steering wheel. And I'm always sitting there.
• Speed bumps are called "sleeping police".
• Tricycles, like in the Philippines, are called BMW (baji merah wanita). Literal Translation in Bahasa: red wedges women.

 Typical bumper-to-bumper traffic in Jakarta.  
Motorcycles, coming from all directions, squeeze in between cars

SPORTS

• Soccer is the main sport played and watched. 
• Basketball very closely follows, while many business men play golf. 
• ESPN seems to show only NY Yankee baseball and LA Laker basketball.

ENTERTAINMENT

• Mall is the main place for people to hang out which is largely attributed to the fact that 1) you get free A/C in the mall; 2) outdoors can be too hot during the day; 3) it seems like everything is attached to the mall: movies, clubs, restaurants, hotels, spas. And the great thing I noticed is  that every mall has a place for you to drop off your kids and let them play, until you're ready to go home to sleep.
  
•  House music is very popular among the older crowd (28+), while hip hop is popular with the younger crowd.
• Beers and other alcohol are just as expensive as in the US (Muslims and their influence)
• Spring chickens are not the main course for a meal, but women that you know... for money. 
• They love the Terminator out here. It seems like the movie channels are always showing old Arnold Schwarzenegger movies.
  

Huge malls are sprouting in Jakarta like mushrooms.

PERSONAL HYGIENE

• Beware: they do not use toilet paper in many places. Either bring your own or learn how to use the water bucket or water squirter. Be aware that it might get messy and sting a little (you'll understand if you use the squirter incorrectly).

FOOD

• Food here have Dutch influence, as the Dutch ruled the country for 350 years.
• If you like spicy hot food, this is the country to come to. Most of the food here are cooked with chili and are so hot they can kill any bacteria in your mouth. Be sure to drink lots of water and bring your antacid.
• Many dishes and sauces are made with peanuts (beware if you have any allergies). 
• If you love pork, this is not the country to come to (Mulsim influence). The good thing about this, you don't have to worry about the swine flu.

Crabs in bean sauce and a whole lot of chili.

RELIGION 

• Indonesia has the highest Muslim population in the world. 
• Prayer can be heard 5 times a day in the neighborhood.
  

A Message from Macedonia

This social TV ad campaign was produced for the Government of the Republic of Macedonia aimed at promoting education in the country.

Albert Einstein, the genius that he was and at a very tender age, discovered that evil does not exist.   This got me thinking.  Does it take a genius to know the non-existence of evil?   Does it follow that intelligence should negate evil?

POST SCRIPT: A day after I posted this, a good friend sent me a link that clears up the fictive story about the young Einstein challenging his professor on the existence of evil.  It explains how Einstein had become "a stock character to be tossed in a fray wherever the script calls for a genius."  Oh well, welcome to the world of advertising - where urban legends become real under the blanket of creative license! 

[See link: http://www.snopes.com/religion/einstein.asp or click Non-Existence of Evil  - Argument by Einstein?  under Links on this page]

A Taste of Italy - but not on the 17th!

Italy needs no introduction, no sales pitch, no glossy brochure. Simply stated — Italy's beauty, charm, and charisma attract travelers worldwide.  It remains on top of my Must-See-Places-Before-I-Die list. I was supposed to have my great Italian experience last December 17.  The taste of succulent food and immersion in the warmth of the Italian culture was all I could think of for months.  But as bad luck would have it, it never materialized putting a final stamp on the heartbreak that went with it.

Recently, I attended a Fresh Pasta workshop with an Italian and Milan-raised chef instructor who refused to start the workshop until the last participant came.  The typical passionate, traditional and loquacious Italian that he is, he explained that he didn’t want to start the workshop with 17 attendees, seventeen being a traditional bad omen among Italians.  

The number 17 is considered unlucky on its own.   Anything associated to the number is bad luck.  Friday the 17^th is bad luck day in Italy like Friday the 13^th in the United States.  Italians stop whatever they are doing at the strike of 17:17 on the clock.  Seventeen is considered unlucky for at least two reasons, both having to do with how it is written.  When 17 is written using Roman numerals XVII, it can be rearranged to spell the Roman word VIXI meaning "I have lived" and was found on ancient tombstones. When written using Arabic numerals 17 are still considered unlucky since it resembles a man hanging from a gallows. 

This particular information interests me because I was born on the 17^th and I had a Friday the 17^th birthday three years ago.  It was not so much of an unlucky day for me but I remember talking to an Italian restaurateur on that day.  Upon knowing that it was my birthday, he immediately touched his genitals through his clothing which I found rather ostentatious and disrespectful. 

Later I found out that crotch-grabbing is a common habit among superstitious Italian males who believe the gesture wards off bad luck.  It goes back at least to the pre-Christian Roman era when people believe that a covetous person can harm you, your children or your possession just by looking at you.  Men then would block such pernicious beams by shielding their genitals: the seat of fertility, the future fruit of their loins.  These days, Italians resort to phallic amulets to repel adversity.  They come handy when they come across traditional bad omens like the number 17.

Too bad for me, the Italian restaurateur didn’t have any phallic charm handy on my birthday.  And too bad that I had to schedule a grand Italian tour on a 17^th.    I guess no Italian birthday for me in this lifetime too.  Unless, I want to see half of Italy’s male population grabbing their crotches while I walk around the seven hills of Rome, of course.