dec. 31 to jan. 1

I told my father not to buy firecrackers anymore for very obvious reasons, and I was glad he followed my ~~order~~ advice. The paper was put to bed early so I was able to take the office shuttle to Cubao and get on a bus by 6:30 p.m. When I reached home (8:30 or so) some house was blasting the neighborhood with ear-splitting music. That house turned out to be our house.

My father, who was already drunk, had set up his sound system on the terrace. Minutes later I heard my father singing. An hour later he started deejaying. No shit. “Happy New Year!” he’d shout, then he’d play an 80’s song. “Good song, good song!” At one point the volume was turned up so high my sister handed him my brother’s headphones to protect his ears. Then we closed the door to the terrace while he’s inside because we couldn’t hear ourselves think. Haha! He didn’t mind. He was bopping his head to the music when we went downstairs to drink.

My brother became quite talkative (and dizzy) after his third glass. Every now and then my father would come downstairs (still wearing the headphones) and practically bellow at us, saying that he loved our mother! And that my brothers will never find a woman as precious as her! And my sister and I will never find a guy as handsome as him!

Okay! Calm down!

Craziest media noche ever.

And we didn’t even have firecrackers.

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Also brought home my compli copy of the Inquirer book.