Filipinos

I admit, I'll never understand Filipinos. I always imagined that I would never be questioned about being Filipino, if my ethnicity wasn't mixed but my cousin, Pinky (yes, that's what we call her) has dispelled my illusions. Her husband's business partner brought home a mail order fiancee (ugh). Her name is Jem. Jem doesn't cook (haha) and was pining for Filipino food. She asked Pinky to make adobo. You can make it wet or dry (I like it a little wet myself) so Pinky makes it according to Jem's specifications and then made her own personal version (dry). Jem and her fiance sample Pinky's noodle soup. The fiance asks what Jem thinks of the soup. Without missing a beat, Jem explains that the broth is what you serve when you have no food in the house (I would've died in that situation; my ulcer would flare and I'm sure I'd be eagerly looking for ways to self-medicate through dinner).

Next, comes the adobo. Jem takes a bite and challenges Pinky's heritage. The adobo isn't 'Filipino enough.' Uh, yeah. So, it's not enough that both your parents hail from the Philippines, it's not enough that you speak the language (and Pinky is one of the only family members that does). If you don't cook a certain way, you're not Filipino enough. I don't know why Pinky tells me these stories, though I guess it's some consolation for all the crap I've gone through...I know they're not nice to anyone.

But naturally, the fact that Jem is a mail order bride, that her manners are questionable indicate that in the Phillipines, Jem would not run in Hilario social circles. She thinks dogs are a delicacy. My mom's family, though poor, thought of dogs as pets. But I remain amazed at the lack of unity of one people. Other people have it easy.

My ex told me he'd like to date a Filipina. I couldn't keep a straight face. As long as G doesn't have to deal with a Jem.