The following are things you may or may not need to know about me. They may or may not be embellished truths, but in my experience, reality is so much more hilarious.
I am related by marriage to Mr. Haney from Green Acres. And I’m not talking second cousin once removed. Pat Buttram was my husband’s great-uncle. Kind of a lame pick-up line, if you ask me. But then again, maybe you shouldn’t ask me, because apparently it worked.
I am a second-generation Asian-American. Both my parents immigrated here from the Philippines. Though I was born in the Philippines, my dad was in the United States military, so I’ve pretty much lived my whole life on American soil. I can’t speak much Tagalog (shame), but love the richness of my culture all the same. And the food. Definitely the food.
I am married with children, but without the TV show. Hubs was conned into marrying me almost a decade ago, got me knocked up with my boy Bug, and then it happened again with Bean. The four of us have way too much fun than should be allowed in one family. Where’s the dysfunction? Although, I should probably ask that question again when they are teenagers.
I come from a big, ridiculous, sloppy-kisses family. No, really. We all love each other. Like, a lot. My older brother is The Best, my two sisters are actually my two best friends, and my parents are flawless. My parents have always stressed the importance of Family First. It wasn’t too popular with us kids when we had to be home before midnight on New Year’s Eve, when all our friends were off kissing each other at 12:01 (what would their mothers say?!), but it set a good precedent for the coming year to ring it in with family.
I have a major crush on God. I wasn’t born and baptized into the church. Up until I was in sixth grade, church was reserved for midnight mass on Christmas eve. But then we moved to the Bible belt and next door to a preacher, so it was all but inevitable that we meet this Jesus guy and go over to His house on non-holidays. I like Him, I like to talk about Him, and I can’t wait to meet Him in person. (I hear He’s tall.)
I am entomophobic. Self-diagnosed, of course. I remember a time when I was just averagely afraid of bugs, but that was before my own mother started chasing me with dead bugs and exploiting that once-mild fear. Now it is full-blown. I can’t even get close enough to bugs to squash them. Instead, I will spray them (from a safe distance) with whatever I have on hand: Lysol, Febreze, hairspray…all deadly in copious amounts.
I love to write. And laugh. And laugh at what I write. (I hope you do, too!) Maybe one day someone will pay me for it. (That is, for the writing bit. I don’t think they pay people to laugh, but if you hear of a job opening in that market, let me know, would you? Thanks.)
And lastly, we are all ridiculously good-looking. Just take my word for it.