I come from a family whose idea of fun can get a little strange, so if you were to ask me about the silliest thing I’ve ever done, my family would probably be involved. I can think of at least a dozen incidents, like the Rat-Hunting Year or that time my dad had a spider living in his moustache. But in terms of pure silliness, nothing will ever beat the Great Chicken Chase.
One day my dad came home with a gift from a friend. A gift in the form of a brown native chicken, meant to be slaughtered and eaten at the soonest possible convenience. Over our dead bodies! My twin brother and I adopted her as a pet, and I christened her Carla Chickenini. (I swear to God I didn’t know what her last name meant, at the tender age of 12. It just sounded nice and vaguely Italian.)
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For years I’ve suffered an enduring relationship of unrequited love with sports or anything remotely athletic. “I gave her my heart and she gave me a pen,” Cusack’s character said in the film. My line would be, “I gave him my heart and he said ‘Who u?’”
Let me explain.
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Back in the ancient times of the 70s, where there was no internet, MTV or Cartoon Network to while my hours away, I entertained myself by reading. My favorite then was the Childcraft series, twelve volumes of books ranging from math to biology to botany to raising children. At eight years old, I had already read all the volumes, even the “Guide for Parents”, which taught me what to expect during puberty (which I blame for my obsession to get my period asap and the need to wear a bra at eight years old), how to successfully raise my future children and how to deal with marital problems (heh?).
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Silly Putty – tdmk. A trademark for a soft colored modeling material that can be stretched and bounced.
The silliest things I’ve ever done in my life have all involved money.
After chucking what was supposed to be a dream job in SGV & Co., where I basically counted beans for a living (okay, fine, I wrote accounts receivable, payroll and inventory software in dBase III+, guess what year), I really thought my next and future life would just become one fabulous glam slam under the klieg lights, sashaying (yes, in that hip-swinging motion we were known to have walked in then) down the runway, or “emoting” (trademark emotions: Headache Pose, Stomachache Pose, or Hug the Backdrop) in the studio.
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It has been five years since I have not been attached with someone and as the years pass, my solitude is slowly building up walls of comfort that I don’t recognize what is right from wrong. The state of comfort has thickened my walls, windows have been shut and the door tightly locked. I’ve been very content in enjoying the company of family, bradas and sistahs, plus the perks of having my regular booty calls. I have lost the need to be romantically attached.
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Picture this: you’re 16 years old and you want to please your parents all the time. When it comes to your college applications, they tell you to put in BS Nursing as your first choice. You do it. But you secretly hope you don’t make the cut for that course and, instead, get taken into the Creative Writing program, which you had put in as your second choice. It is then that God decides to teach you a lesson about going after what you really want and being honest.
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Flawless, white underarms…just one of the many concerns that women have, and that men (lucky bastards) never have to think about! I’ve had long conversations with girl friends regarding different methods—laser treatments, waxing, toners—to achieve those gloriously fuzz-free ‘pits.
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