From a Filipino point of view, the mannerisms of white people (a definition I limit to the Anglo-Saxon type) are something that should be laughed at. The first thing I usually like to analyze are the parties, or as I call them “rigid get-togethers.”
The last time I went to a party run by whites, nobody talked to you unless you started the conversation, which was a plus for me because I simply talk too much. They come up to you with these little plates of “appetizers,” more of barely cooked shards of meat on a toothpick and only expect you to take one because taking two would give them the assumption that two would give them the assumption that you’re a freeloader. And when the food ever arrives it’s either one monotonous dish or Pizza Hut. Hell! If I wanted to eat a circle of greasy cheese I might as well have gotten it myself and flipped the bill. And what is this thing about standing in line? Do these people estimate what each guests is going to consume before they come? They might as well give us measuring spoons. Also, no matter what they say, ENCHILADAS ARE NOT A MAIN COURSE. Leaving for home always involves a quick stop at McDonald’s. That’s why they’re open late hours. They have to accommodate the malnourished party-goers dying for a bit of “real” food with “meat” content.
I want my Filipino party. I would like to enter a house, take off my shoes and place them on a rack to the delight of the hosts who greet you with “Inday,” throw you a plate and utensils, and expect you to jump into the lined tables and grab as much as you can stuff your face with. There is no such thing as waiting. If there are too many people at a dish, the hose will pull out another or toss a serving spoon at the nearest person.
I thought parties were made for loose, friendly relations between individuals. To be frank, white parties scare me. Everybody’s shoes are on. I can’t get an extra serving of enchiladas without a host looking over my shoulder seeing whether or not I would take more than my “fair share.” Forget the neat formality. Get my plate and my mah jong table. When you lose the sausages and toothpicks, I may come back.