Disclaimer: I still do maintain that writing heart wrenching; melancholy stuff is way more beautiful and harder than writing this seemingly mindless rambling about burps and farts that I wish to now tread.
My father has now taken up the role of Seiko, in my life’s adaptation/ rendition of the Kung Fu Panda! Not only does he help me answer and understand the usual questions about life like every father has to, must and does; he is also been my mentor in the field I have taken up as my choice of career- HR. He is by the way the best mentor ever. He gives hugs, dresses up as Santa on Christmas eve (still!) and also lets you rest on his tummy while you watch movies.
Now he has added another dimension to it. To reform this Phoo Phoo Panda, into a Kung Fuing HR Panda. Now the questions/ quizzing on ID Act are followed by a 75 minute jog in the nearby park. *silent sigh. He was the parent I used to look upto in the “eating and not caring” department. (I also look upto him in the “loves shopping and not telling mummy what I recently bought” department). Mom was always too “bird like eater” to be liked. But dad, he was Homer Simpson, the nonchalant burp-er (told ya this post was about burps and farts :D ). He was super cool, till a few years ago. Then the exercising bug got to him. Now mother (emphasises on the world to ensure coldness) had to physically stop him from stretching himself. He was eating right, exercising, and dolling out advice to me and the leprechaun. With great pain in my heart, I had accepted that aliens had abducted my dad and sent in this make-shift, cheap, not eating, jogging maniac replica daddy.
Readers legit query: Why would the aliens kidnap my dad in the first place? They don’t need him for his HR expertise. Their punishment and punishment strategy has done them good all these years.
Me: Well a) how the hell do you know what has done them good all these years. *raises eyebrow. Whispers to self “It does look one of them”.
And b) they kidnapped him cos of his innate awesomeness. Did I not mention the cute pregnant belly bit?
I had accepted this dad, and learnt to also ignore the advices given to us, the regiment he implored us to follow. Well the regiment had one great chink in its armour of applicability. It needed moa to wake up at 7 in the morning. No can do imitation-of-daddy-alien-person!
Anyway, as me and brother mastered the art of ignoring father, like normal children must at some part of their lives, he dropped this biggie of an antler on me. Utilize your unemployed month and get some exercise. Well he had a point there. I was unemployed still, and eating out his pocket in this recession hit time. So exercising would lead to my intake of pocket-hallowing food being lessened, and also I had a moral obligation to do so, since he did mention my unemployed ass was getting bigger and bigger by the day. *rolls eyes.
So I thought the father-daughter duo could use some bonding, and agreed to go jogging with him every evening. (Should have just weaselled my way out like the lawyer did. God, he is intelligent!)
So, me gets ready for a time that will inspire movies, the great bond between a father and daughter strengthened while their calf muscles also got strengthened. Boy was I wrong. Some facts about my jogger father:
a. He doesn’t like to talk (in general. Thought to kick you off with a no brainer fact about father-ly person of mine)
b. He carries his cell phone n head set, which means as soon as he steps into those jogging shoes of his, he cant hear a word you are saying.
c. If you do need to say something to him, it better be said while he is changing radio channels.
d. If you aren’t jogging 33% of the time, he will refuse to acknowledge you in the park.
e. He has given nicknames to all the ladies who come to the jogging park. They are pretty cute ones too! Like the headlight lady, who always uses her mobile phone’s lighted screen as headlights to manoeuvre her way when it gets dark. You get the idea.
Readers legit query: don’t you have lights in the park?
Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. NO!!! We do have an open septic tank- more like a pool- there for the kids to play around, in… whatever.
Some of the facts about his Panda like daughter:
a. Only goes to the park to check out boys. They do look lovely running and all!! *flashes a toothy grin.
b. Gets royally ticked off if someone overtakes her in the park. Will try to tailgate them and push them off balance.
c. If ever she outruns her dad, will stop and quickly retrieve to a 5 step radius of her dad, like most 1 year olds do in the park.
d. Cant get it quite right: how do you keep the earphones from falling off your greasy sweaty ears whilst you run?
Readers legit query: was this bit on you needed??
Me: $*%^&.. its my blog init?
Anyway, it sounds not that bad eh? How bad can it be to have Santa Claus as a jogging mate? Well REAL bad. I do call him Seiko for a reason. I suppose he has had an encounter with the Tylon (lawyer) of the family. No wonder the Seiko like insatiable standards. :-| Poor Phoo Phoo Panda!! Also wondering when will he begin his food as incentive training.
Anywho, I cant believe this blog has actually turned out to be this long.
Now an unrelated blabber, courtesy dysfunctional brain activity in me head:
You know what I hate the most about the liberties boys have. Its not the fact that they can wear shorts anywhere anytime, or that they don’t have to be afraid of being teased as they walk out of their door or that they are given preferential treatment in families. What my bone of contention with boys is that they can publish, put up their mobile numbers as their profile names on orkut, as their status messages on gtalk and the like without fear or inhibition. Life aint fair.
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