The Funtasian

When I was younger, my brother Ben & I never wore shoes. I hated them. My father said we had "Rice patty feet".  I could walk on rocks, climb trees, anything and I never flinched.  Must be an Asian thing.  I couldn't tell if he was insulting me or he was just jealous that his feet were too soft.  Must be a white thing.

Ben was too young to remember our time in the Ghetto Jungle.  He couldn't run anyway because he was strapped to a board and had Forest Gump shackles on his legs.  All I did was run. Run away from the broom, run from my Uncles who tortured me daily, run to the candy lady, run to my mother begging not to leave me with her broom wielding mother.  So one day, I ran all the way to the beach.  To get to the beach though, you had to run through the rice patties.

There I was, five years old standing in a labyrinth of rice patty squares that led to a beach.  Only problem was the Water Buffalo were always in my way.  They would just stand there dropping their swirls and twirls shit on the pathways that led me to the beach.  If I wasn't hopping buffalo shit, I was crawling under the buffalo itself. How I wasn't kicked in the head, knocked into a patty to drown, or impaled by a horn is beyond me.   

My mother would tell me stories of her childhood and how she had to collect the hardened buffalo chips for the family. She told me how sometimes it didn't always look hard and she would wind up with buffalo shit all over her because it was soft and would fall apart after picking it up. My poor mother.   When my uncles found out I was running through the rice patties, they would tell me another story. How my dinner every night was going to be cooked on a buffalo dung oven.  OMFG! This is why my mother collected dung?!  I chose to starve to death from this point on.

Being five, full of imagination & a will to survive in this god forsaken land, I decided that if there was no dung to be found, there would be NO OVEN MADE OF SHIT. So I ran barefoot to the rice patties as often as I could sneaking buffalo dung back into the rice pools. I was NOT eating off a shit oven! I'd rather die, but I bet they had really good crops of rice that year...

 See you tomorrow on "Inside the FLIP Side" ;) <----------- not a winky face, that's half a chinky face!

I don't know what to get you for your birthday yet, so I am dedicating this blog posting to you, ya old bag!

Thank you for enrolling me in gymnastics at age 4.  I'm bendy.  For the Budweiser you let me drink at age 5. See, you started it. For dancing with me at the pub in Brookhaven to "You Are So Beautiful to Me". Duh.  For sending me away for a week with the white people who made me eat runny eggs &b take cold showers while Mom was giving birth to the Little Prince. I am not bitter. For never letting me hang out on the other side of Yaphank.  For taking me rowboating everyday on Yaphank Lake and telling mom she was too fat and would sink the boat so she couldn't come with us. I dont know where i get it from. For always giving me money when I need it. Put it on my tab. For holding my hand when I busted my chin wide open and had to get stitches when I was 4 at Aunt Suzies. Never wear socks on a newly waxed floor. For installing a pull up bar and making me practice everyday so I could get the Physical Fitness award in gym, President style. For every x-ray you and mom had to take me to because I kept falling out of trees, off roofs, and down stairs. I was unstoppable. For being Irish. Too many reasons to list for that.  For marrying mom so I'd be neither all white nor all Flip. Are you even married to her?  For giving me my curls. I never have to do my hair.  For holding my hand once again when that dog mauled my face off at age 9 and I laid there for hours while the 6 plastic surgeons tried to figure out how to fix me. Only took ten years.  For taking that prozac. God knows you needed it. For being a wonderful grandfather to my daughters who love you so much.  Sydney is just like you, a Kracken.  For not dying in March and showing me I had more strength than I thought I ever had. Tear. For all the big and little things you've done for me over the past 40 years that I didn't mention here, I love you Dad. Mom stop fucking crying...

When I wasn't being tortured at Catholic school by ruler wielding Tagalog only speaking teachers and nuns, I was at my grandmothers shanty by the river walking turkeys in circles. This was not by choice. She begged my mom to leave me with her. She should have just cut to the chase and said, "My broom misses Jeannie's pu-et(ass)". I spent more time running from the broom than time with my Lola(grandmother). God, I hope she doesn't find out I hid the broom under the bed...

My uncles weren't all that bad, but I couldn't understand a word they said. Between their broken english and thick filipino accent it was hard to communicate so I nodded alot & awkwardly smiled. I took defeat and asked one of my younger uncles to teach me more tagalog. He was fun. He taught me all the bad words. I realized later on that this was just another form of getting me in trouble. The broom was found and I was chased once again for telling my Lola off. Tagalog style. My uncle will pay. Im going to steal his dinner and set it free. Here, piggy piggy piggy...

While my english was perfectly fine, my tagalog was definitely in need of help. I could have sworn my mother said she was going to a party when she spoke to the Fama-ly. As the elders headed for the bus stop, I used to my half ninja like skills to wriggle away from my cousins who were holding me back from joining my mother. I was mighty strong for a wee little Flip. Hahaha, I got away.  Im going to the party!! I'll deal with the broom later.

My mother didn't realize I was on the bus til it was too late. She didn't hear the screams of my cousins yelling to stop the bus. My mom and Aunt "Slants" were NOT happy to see me at all. They mumbled about how I shouldn't be going to the "Party". Too bad ladies, I was going and I was thrilled about it. Why were they all shaking their heads?

As we departed the bus I saw a lot of people at this party. It was hot as hell in this little house and it smelled really bad. What kind of Filipino food were they cooking at this party? It smelled worse than a burning goat.  Lots of candles were lit, but someone should tell them they weren't working. I was hungry. As I made my way through the house. People were crying. I don't like this party, but I need food. Finally, I saw my Mom and Aunt Slants looking at a table wrapped in pretty lace and satin. I found the food & geesh the food really stinks here. I ran up to the table, but I was too small to see the food. So, I used my half ninja like skills again. I grabbed the table and kept jumping to see. My Aunt Slant kept swatting at me to cut it out, but I was determined even though it stunk like shit in there. This party SUCKED. I moved to my mothers left and took one more giant leap as I grabbed the table for leverage. The table rocked forward just a bit. Enough for me to see that I was NOT at a party. This was NOT a table of food. This IS a WAKE and I just saw my first DEAD body...

Can't a girl just get an eggroll?

See you tomorrow on "Inside the Flip Side" ;)

 

 

 

 

I pondered a question to my father..."Daddy, why dont the dogs here have names? A shrug was all I got & a bit of a snicker.

Hmmm, but the turkeys & chickens had names, how strange. Are the turkey & chickens their pets? After all the turkeys did have leashes.  I kind of already knew the answer. My mother told me the stories about all the four legged animals she had eaten. All the chickens she beheaded. She called them her "toys".  Good lord, my mommy was a SAVAGE. She will do well in Yaphank, but I wondered if this is why we didnt have a dog back home. She might eat it.

I dont remember the first time I went to the Philippines. I have only heard the stories of my disgust for this home away from home. I have seen the pictures and I am not smiling in any of them. Actually, I am crying and this doesn't shock me because there's an Uncle in all of them.

My grandparents shanty by the river was a lap of luxury. Have you ever been chased with a broom while you tried to get away by crawling across a bamboo floor? Not the smooth bamboo floors of today either. REAL bamboo. The kind if you crawl across you swear that your knees had shattered. Why was I being chased by my grandmother and her broom across a bamboo floor? It was because I wouldnt eat the shrimp off her stick. My face is cringing right now remembering how it still had beady black eyes and all its little legs. She tried to stick it in my mouth and I refused. How disgusting. Who eats things with the eyes still attached? Get me the hell out of here and it was only day 1.

I counted every day til I could go back to Yaphank where my grandfather made me coffee and watch tv. There was no TV and no coffee here, but there was 7-up. It came delivered in a milk crate, a weeks worth and I drank it all in one day. I denied this of course. Oh fuck, here comes the broom again

I slept tangled in mosquito nets by night and played in the pig sty by day. More like hid in the sty until an Uncle ratted me out. Damn full breeds. I felt at home with the little piglets. Must've been the Yaphank in me. One of the Uncles who will remain nameless kept telling me not to touch the piglets because its mother would not love it anymore or feed it. He also told me I killed all the chicken eggs too.  I asked him if this is what he told himself when he ate them. And out came that damn broom...

I felt like I was running for my life from Grandmothers to the toothless candy lady in the woods. Yes, even half way around the world, if there was candy I was going to find it. Even in the jungle. I was five, barefoot and running around a stange land all by myself. How did I ever make it out alive & who the fuck was watching me?

I dont remember at what point my parents enrolled me in Catholic School. What I do remember is the ugly uniform, the extreme folding of the knee socks, the fact that nobody ever smiled (a requirement) and in the class picture, we were told NOT to smile(What the fuck is this god awful place?). I got yelled at daily for doing what I did best. Scream at the teacher in english. I was the token half white kid. She hated me and she told on me to the nuns.  I was in BIG trouble.  So I did the only thing I could do to protect myself. I hid my Grandmothers broom... 

Next time on Inside the FLIP Side..."Mom, is that a dead person?" "How far is the fall to those crocodiles?" & "Why are we using umbrellas if its not raining?" See you on the FLIP side!!

Before my mother hoarded Fama's in our home, most of them lived in the Philippines and I guess dragging your family around the globe to visit her people was a must do.

It was going to be my second trip back "home" as my mother referred to it. I deemed my her crazy because my home was in Yaphank.  I was not going anywhere especially that shit hole (yea yea, I know. There's plenty of beautiful places there, but I have never seen them so they can't possibly exist) and if i was, I was going to make it very very difficult. Never underestimate a five year old half breed who doesn't want to leave her kindergarten crush at Christmas to live in a shanty on the side of a river with a pig farm AND go to catholic school. Oh and even worse, I was forced to go to church every damn day. They sold colorful popcorn at church. I refused to step inside without the popcorn. This pissed off the natives. I received a lot of slanty side eyes. Whatever, I chew loudly.

First attempt at sabotaging the trip back home...the PASSPORT PHOTO. I wiggled and fidgeted. I kicked my feet around. I wouldn't look at the camera. I played with my pig tails. Then the good news came. The pictures couldnt be used!! With good news comes bad news. They used my baby picture from the first trip back "home". FUCKERS

Hmmm I must try again..."They will never get the small pox vaccine in me".  No vaccine, no Phillippines. I keep forgetting I'm only five and little. Little with ninja like skills. Two parents, a nurse's assistant, Nurse Ratchet and the Filipino Pediatrician(Well played Mom, getting one of your own) held me down on a chair while I screamed til my eyes swelled shut and they put the horrible burning blue poison small pox vaccination on my back so I couldn't reach it. When they were done, I hopped up and said with a smirk, "That didnt hurt at all".   I think the broken blood vessels all over my face was enough to stave off a beating when I got home. Someone should have warned me that the vaccination area would swell, itch & scab so badly I would take my shirt off constantly and show everyone my big nasty scab. Well, not much has changed in 35 years except I dont need a vaccination to remove my top at any given time.

I was five and fresh out of ideas. Guess I was headed to Shanty Town. My brother Ben was just a baby when we went to see the Fama-ly again. Ben was named after my mothers father so we needed to bring the second Half Breed Fama back "home". So its Prince Benjamins fault...he will pay for this.

The plane ride was long and I was not happy to be in a giant tin can 30,000 feet in the sky built by the lowest bidder. What's a girl to do? SCREAM...LOUDLY til we landed in Japan. My dad bought me markers & origami paper to shut me up. Stupid, Stupid man. Now I can pass my "HELP! I have been kidnapped from Yaphank" note onto a Round Eye. OK one little problem. I was 5 and couldn't spell words like kidnapped or Yaphank and the only Round Eye on the plane was my dad. SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!

After what seemed like 17 days on a plane we landed. There were no terminals, you are just dumped out onto the hot tarmac. This didnt surprise me at all. It was 5000 degrees, I was in HELL and I was never getting back to Yaphank (the lesser of two evils).

Tomorrows Installment of Inside the FLIP side..."Daddy why dont they name their dogs here?" , I didn't kill the chickens, I am NOT going back to that school. See you on the Flip Side ;)

Of course my darling little Asian Mommy was kidding when she blurted this out to the entire cafeteria, but they all believed her. Why wouldnt they, she was the lunch lady. The keeper of extra tater tots, ice cream cups and free chocolate milk. Did I mention my mom also put me in band camp every year? I didnt get frisky with a flute though, no girth.

I didn't look like my parents. I was the whitest of half breeds with dark curly cowlicked hair. My skin was milky, my big eyes green & almond shaped.  My nose little & not spread like my moms or huge like my dads. My lips were tiny but my cheek bones were high & my face flat. My DNA was clearly fucking with me. From the neck up my body was confused on what country it was from. People said I would be so pretty once I grew into my features.  Really?? I mean how bad could it get? My mom was the Filipino lunch lady that told people I wasn't hers and sent me to band camp. I used to say when I was born that I was only smacked in the face once with a shovel.

My eyes were slanty enough to be made fun of, but the unibrow that swept across my face was furry enough that I might have been something worse; a Panker. Having my mother as the lunch lady confirmed everyones suspicions. Yup, that kid is a chink, so every exchange student of Asian descent that entered school was going to be sat next to me so they didnt feel out of place. It didnt matter that I didnt speak Korean, Chinese or Japanese because I was supposed to magically understand what the full breeds were saying in their native tongues. Dudes, I was racially profiled in elementary school!

While everyone in the cafeteria had cool food in their Star Wars lunch boxes, in my very boring, uncool, plastic Tupperware lunch carrier were things like rice, corned beef and potatoes, but believe me when I say it was NOT the Irish kind. I was often asked what I was eating with a snicker, so my reply was always dog food. That kinda back fired because now I was the half breed, adopted daughter of the Filipino lunch lady who was sent to band camp and ate dog food. Got Alpo?

Stay tuned...tomorrow we are leaving on a jet plane to a land far far away. See you on the Flip side ;)

 

 

 

 

 

 

What is a Fama you ask? Its a little bit of loco, with a dash of even more crazy and a whole lot of skeletons but it is my family and half of who I am. My mother is one of 13, well 14 really, but whos counting. 14 brothers and sisters meant lots of Famas running loose without weekend passes. My mother was the only sibling to marry outside her culture & hence the first Half Breed Fama was born.

Having an Asian stay at home mother meant being raised Asian. I was spoken to in Tagalog. I learned to cook Filipino food at an early age and I ate what was in the "Mystery Pot" for fear of being forced to eat something worse like Balut or Pigs Blood. (yea im puking in my mouth a little too right now)

For as far back as my elephant memory can remember, there was always a Fama or a whole Famaly hiding, I mean taking refuge, I mean living in my home. I started to refer to it as the Fama Half Way House of Horrors. They were completely taking over and I was scared I would never see a baked potato ever again.

I often went down to the lake behind my house to catch dinner with my Uncle because thats what the natives do back home. He didnt like catching fish with a pole so one afternoon he went into my Grandpas workshop and came out with a spear gun he hand made. He liked to shoot from the "trees". Tarzan meets Magyver by way of Manila. My brother thought it was the coolest thing ever. I thought this man is one egg roll short of Lucky Chans combination platter.

Now remember, I am half white and chose freely on which country I wanted to be on any given day. Having all these Famas in the house with their babies and what not meant I was greatly outnumbered by the Bruce Lee look alikes so I pulled the white card often. As I got older my Tagalog was lacking and told them it was rude to speak in tongues in front of an American. Sometimes their language got so advanced I could only listen for my name but I learned the faster and louder they spoke meant someone (usually another Fama) was coming to town and they were bringing more Famas to live with us. It also meant my Dads white man does a Filipino accent wasn't going away anytime soon and he sucked at it.

My only refuge from this madness was going to school but then the unthinkable happened. My mother got a JOB and not just ANY job.

DUN DUN DUN...

My mom was now the freakin CAFETERIA LADY at my elementary school. Yea my mouth was agape too and not from her just being the lunch lady but from the smell of tator tots that wofted off her body daily.

...to be continued with "No Jeannie's Not My Dawtuhh, She Adopted"...Inside the Flip Side

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For those of you who follow my 181 day nightmare of waking my eighth grader for school, I'm putting the entries from Facebook into a new blog post. If you haven't read them, here they are so you can catch up.

Day 1...As always Sydney aka fire breathing sleep monster is a complete and utter joy to wake in the morning. Good luck moms & dads. This sucks.

Day 2...My 615am back to school mornings:

Me: Bye Mad Love you
Mad: love you too
Cut to 6:40am
Me: Syd...Syd...Syd... Repeat 50x
Syd: making some unearthly groan/growl
Me: Runs & retrieves cross, wooden stakes & a poptart for leniency. Hides 

Day 3...Waking up Sydney for school can only be compared to going after Medusas Head. DO NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seriously does it?

This hot sketch of me was done by the talented Rae Berse. My ass really IS that BIG and I love it.

I figured my first blog post should be about me and why I decided to be a blogger. I keep hearing how funny I am so why not?  I enjoy making people laugh with my obnoxious sarcastic unfiltered humor. This one about my life with topics like my friends, relationships, my vagina and how much I love it, to my children who clawed their way out of it, sex toys of course & why I’ve never seen a porn.There's a vast number of Long Island Comedians that deserve the shout outs and applause. I’ll be writing about their sets, their podcasts & whatever else I come across hopping from club to club with my girlfriends laughing our asses off from Long Island to NYC and maybe even beyond.

I grew up a half breed in a small white bred town. I bounced back and forth between Deliverance and the Philippines. I've got rice patty feet & a filthy trucker mouth with a knife fetish. I am proud of my dysfunctional heritage. Half Asian(Filipino mostly), the other half is Irish with some other shit. I'd like to take this moment to thank my Dad for the gray hair he gave me at such an early age. By the way I wish someone would have told me gray hair on your head means gray hair grows below and you can't “Wash that gray right out of your hair” unless you want to feel the burn.

I'm a mom to two beautiful yet hormone raging demon seeds. Spawn One & Spawn Two. I'd say I’m not your typical mom. I am fiercely honest with my kids about everything in life from why you NEVER eat from Grandmas mystery pot to sex & why you NEVER use your teeth. I did forget to tell Spawn One that you're supposed to shave with water and shaving cream and not JUST a razor. OUCH...Sorry honey, but the teeth thing is more important than razor burn if  you ask me. ;)

Since I first thought of blogging everything & everyone in my life has been targeted and they know it. Throughout the day I will hear at least one person say, "You better not blog about that!" Once you open your mouth please know that you’re screwed. Kinda like Taylor Swift right after she blows her boyfriend gets dumped then sings about how she never ever ever ever wants it back in her mouth ever again...like, ever.

I have so much to say & I hope you stick around and come back for more. Your comments & suggestions are always welcome even if they’re bad. That’s a complete fucking lie. I don’t want to hear your shit. Just praise me. Kidding....sorta