MAMA dearest FILES

As we walked on, wading through the Dickens Fair crowd, the mom was badgering me to get a picture with people in costume. The constable wasn’t enough. She thought the costume was too simple and rather modern. 

But most of the people she wanted to take a picture with were in a middle of a performance. So I looked around for someone who wasn’t part of a performance and was just hanging around.

Of course, we found a wench sitting by the docks. 

I asked the wench if we could take a picture with her, and she graciously obliged. The wench complimented the mom’s coat (she was wearing a Vivienne Westwood-like leopard (faux) fur coat. And the mom complimented the wench for her costume in turn. 

Then the mom asked, “How could I become a wench like you?”

The wench replied, “Just steal some clothes from a passed out lady and wear it.”

It looked like the mom just found her new best friend. 

Two Sundays ago, the mom and I went to Dickens Fair in San Francisco. 

As we lived two blocks away from the venue, every year I went with friends. Due to her religion’s strict prohibition of celebrating Christmas, she usually declines my invitation to come with me to the affair. 

But, this year, her curiosity got to her. 

Before going in, as a fair warning, I told her that the actors in costumes will never break character. Just imagine we’re visiting Victorian era London.

As soon as we got in, a stout constable approached us and started chatting her up. (I think he was flirting with her. She’s such a guy magnet.) 

In a weird flow of conversation, she then asked the constable, “Is your accent authentic?”

To which the man answered, without breaking character or accent, “What do you mean by accent?”

“The way you speak.”

The constable answered back, in a pompously thick gentry English, “I don’t have an accent madame. It’s you who, I believe, have the accent,” he walked away and disappeared behind a curtain.

One day Mom had an epiphany — She "realized" she's the one who pushed her husbands on to killing her.

Husband #3 wanted to clean up and start fresh with a new family; got deeper into meth — Poisoned her drinks.

Husband #2 was a religious nut who believed murder is unpardonable — Poisoned her with spoiled food.

While we were attending one of my projects’ afterparty, two middle-aged white dudes were flirting with my mom. At first, they were telling her how “good” her English was.

Then they praised me for having a really good American accent in spite of my ethnicity, origin, and the short time I’ve lived in the United States.

Mom stopped talking to the two guys, obviously peeved.

Later, when I asked what ruffled her feathers ...

MOM: They didn’t have to tell me I had a bad American accent.

ME: Firstly they didn’t say that. They said I have a good American accent. Secondly, you don’t have an American accent.

MOM: Exactly! They meant I have a bad American accent! 

Our landlord has Parkinson's. One time we ran into him in the street. The landlord was having an episode, his head was shaking 

Seeing the landlord, she whispers to me immediately, “did you offer him something?”

While talking to herself...

Unlike every household I know in California, we only have 1 TV at home. Having a small living space, our living room is also our kitchen and our dinning. And having Adult ADHD (undiagnosed hence uncured), Ze Mudra would always find time to clean up, wash Dishes or cook during my TV time. 

Naturally, as I was watching Constantine (in real time for a change), she decided to wash the pots and pans she used to cook with while I was watching Grimm. I asked her if she’ll ever stop washing the pots and pans, to which she responded, “You only have to tell me and I’ll stop. I didn’t know you couldn’t hear your show.”

She stopped washing dishes and I went back to watching my show. 

Ze Mudra then decided that she would make herself a drink. So she rattling the ice tray, banging it on the kitchen counter. Then she put all the ice from the tray to her glass. In between all of that, she was shrieking and wailing over all the ice which jumped all on the floor. 

When she finally finished making her drink, she sat down on the couch and started talking about her day, which she had already talked about during dinner. 

And that is why I watch HULU instead of real time. Sorry Constantine, I really thought I could add to your ratings. 

          Every Wednesday, Ze Mudra hangs out at Serramonte mall  to preach her religion. As she does it all day, she would eat from the mall's food court. Naturally, one is expected to know the choices in a place you visit weekly. So Ze Mudra was confident she knew her territory very well. 

          Today, after getting groceries from Westlake, Ze Mudra noticed Panda Express and started salivating for it. She mentioned that it's been a while since she had Panda Express because there's no Panda Express in Serramonte.

          This statement baffled me. There is NO mall in the Bay Area where there is NO Panda Express. I was sure I have also eaten Panda Express from Serramonte mall. So I argued that there's a Panda Express in said mall.

          Refusing to back down, Ze Mudra made a bet against me: Should there be a Panda Express, she'll treat me out; if there isn't one, I would have to treat her to dinner. 

          On the way to Serramonte, Ze Mudra continued talking about what she would order for dinner. She was so confident she would win this bet. I was just as confident, but I let her continue her premature gloating.  

          But as soon as we entered the mall entrance, her celebratory jeering halted. The panda stared back at her. She took her wallet out and paid for dinner. 

          Rubbing salt to her wound, the lady from her favorite food stall in the mall chided her for not knowing that there was a Panda Express right beside them. 

Ze Mudra and I were watching the movie "Mr. Holland's Opus" and Beethoven's deafness was mentioned in one of the lecture scenes which prompted her to question the legitimacy of Beethoven's ear situation. Being the Know-It-All that I am -- I explained extensively when, where, and why Beethoven lost his hearing. 

See, no classical music was ever played in our household while I was growing up. Therefor, it wasn't a surprise Ze Mudra didn't know or didn't remember about Beethoven's inaudibility. 

Having already finished my short lecture about Beethoven's history, Ze Mudra asked why and how did I know a lot about Beethoven and the classical era. So I told her about my love for Nodame Cantabile -- a manga/anime/live action J-drama about a piano prodigy. Then I told her about the main character playing Beethoven's "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" arrangement for a piano concerto.

After all this, she asked me, "Is Beethoven still alive?"

Bewildered, I asked, how could she ask that when it's just common sense to know Beethoven lived in the 18th century, and no one could live that long.

Her response, "Then, how would Beethoven rearrange a Sesame Street song?"

Ze Mudra decided to buy me a tablet -- a Thank You token for supporting her wish to focus on her religious activities and stop working for good. She has a Galaxy Tab, while I had wanted a Samsung Galaxy Note for the handwriting functions. Of course the Note was more expensive than the Tab, but she couldn't understand why there was a big difference in price and why I insisted on the more expensive one.

Before this, we already had an argument about my choice of toothpaste -- I like Crest Pro-Health, and I wouldn't settle for anything else, Crest or any other brand.

So I thought of comparing  the Samsung Tablets to Crest and its different toothpaste line. 

At the end of my lecture, I asked her, "Understand?"

Today at the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV): I was nursing my flu, but, Ze Mudra asked me to go with her with the "what if I die" speech and "before it's too late" monologue. So as the day stretched, she let me stay in the car and get some rest while she finishes up inside the DMV office.

When she came back she asked me to put some papers together with her car registration--which she brought with her inside the DMV.

ME: The registration isn't here, it's with you.

ZE MUDRA: No! I didn't bring it with me. I didn't even need it. It should be there inside an envelope with pictures on it.

ME: It's not here, you brought it with you before we had the car verified.

ZE MUDRA: (in tears) No, Che, is not with me. Why would I bring it with me I didn't need it. That's so important.

ME: You told me to put it with your other papers (by this time my temper was rising).

ZE MUDRA: (already sobbing) No, I didn't bring it with me. Check your seat. Check under the seat. Check your [pocket] book. Check in your bag.

ME: (with full blown temper) YOUNG LADY, YOU RETRACE YOUR STEP RIGHT NOW, AND LOOK FOR THAT REGISTRATION BECAUSE IT'S NOT HERE. AND DON'T USE YOUR MOUTH LOOKING FOR IT. USE YOUR EYES. DON'T COME BACK HERE UNTIL YOU FIND IT!

After a couple of minutes, she came back and said she found the registration at the counter inside the DMV office.

This morning, Ze Mudra was turning the house upside-down once more, this time looking for our stock of Dish Soap.

ZE MUDRA: What? What does he (our invisible housemate) need the dish soap for? Does he have plates to wash? He wants to wash plates, he should wash OUR plates!

ME: Well, he does have our spoons.

ZE MUDRA: Well, now, we know he's not Filipino? He doesn't know how to use his hands to eat!