***
Maids. And other relevant weird family interactions.

Maids.

Like nearly ever other spoilt brat in the city, I never actually thought of them as real people until the current one I have came along.
They're just there to do everything that we're too lazy to do after all. To function as living, breathing, cleaning machines and nothing more. Besides, my mom had a way of continually nagging at me to ‘please not fraternize with them’. (The reason was that they’d get too comfortable with you and stop listening to instructions) No doubt, the rapport I had managed with the previous few were quite bad. And to no advantage because not talking to them didn’t stop them from refusing to take directions. (The last one got fired when she refused to cook lunch for me because she was sobbing over Days of our Lives.)

But the one I have now is quite incredible.
If she lost a couple of kilos, I’d put her on suicide girls and help her make one and a half months pay for nearly no effort.

I was ranting on and on about the Boy to her last night while on an espresso high, and she told me to shut up and go and visit him already. Among other things.

xoxox

Then she asks me if the Boy was American.

“What makes you think that?”
Her: “He can’t be Chinese.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean he’s American. Don’t you have other white people in the Philippines.”
Her: “We call them Americans anyway.”
“Oh? Well, no, he’s not American, but for the record, your right. He’s not Chinese, I don’t date them anymore”
Her: “Oh Why? Because the Americans have bigger…” And she glances at my crotch.
And we both burst out laughing.
“Why you slut. How the hell would YOU know. Oh come on tell me!”

Unfortunately, she Didn’t, so no good gossip. It was one of our neighbor’s domestic help, or her distant cousin, or maybe the two are the same person, something like that.