Papiringo!

As much as I hate to admit it, I'm a daddy's girl.

I fight with Dad almost as much as I get along with him.
Our moods have a lot to do with it.
Sometimes I'll be mad because apparently I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and Pops will be all happy and chirpy. He'll be all... nice daddy and I'll be the barking bitch daughter.

Other days, I'm super lovely... I mean, I even baby talk sometimes... and he'll be grouchier than Oscar.

I suppose it works out that way because we're so similar. I'm like the female version of my dad... sort of... I'm like daddy but I look like Mom... sort of.

Anyway, he just knows how to make me super happy (as well as how to make me flaming mad) and I do admire my daddy. A more driven individual I've never met (thanks to his dedication, and hard work--working up to 20 hours a day-- he turned our rags-to-riches story into a reality. I don't know many Dads that do that).
Also, when he promises something, he'll follow through... as stupid as some of his promises may be (I mean, he has bought me two SUVs... as well as my sister's two cars) . And he's very giving with others... even if he may be a little stingy with us... but it's only because he knows we can live without it.

If it weren't for Daddy, many families from our home town wouldn't be living in the U.S. legally... and he did it even if it meant he'd get in trouble... and he still did it even if the families never thanked him (only a handful have done so, and he's happy with that little bit of people being thankful).

Sure, there are times I have to hide my food from him... and yes... there was that one time I called him a "Fucking idiot" when he placed a Pop-Tart in the microwave (with the wrapper still on... so the microwave went all crazy and those were the first words out of my mouth as I ran towards the microwave)... and there was that one time I acted like I wasn't his daughter at a furniture store when we were shopping for a sofa and he called a worker over to show him a wad of cash and then tell him "Gimme the best one you got" ... but I really do love my Dad, a lot... and I think he rocks... hard!

He makes me laugh, he gave me my sense of humor... and that little thing where I crack a joke without even knowing it (it's usually at my own expense, but oh well).
He was always there to protect us from Mom whenever she got super mad and wanted to spank us. He let us hide behind him, and with that, Mom would forget about hitting us.
He's always there to give me a hug, squeeze my hand and whisper "You're beautiful, Mija," whenever we're the only two losers sitting at our table at some wedding. His friends abandon him to go to the bar (Daddy quit drinking once he changed religions back in the 70's), my friends and siblings abandon me to go dancing/drinking (it's not that I don't like dancing... but like that George Michael song says: I'm never gonna dance again. I also swore never to be inebriated for a party, because I make a huge ass out of myself). While I do feel like a loser, if it weren't for Daddy's words, I'd probably have mascara running down my face at each wedding I'd ever attend (well, kind of. I've learned to use waterproof mascara while at those events).

I love you Daddy... mucho, mucho, MUCHO!

P.S. Momma, don't feel bad, I love you too... even if I used to try to get out of your arms as a baby... and even now. But I do that to everyone... just not Daddy.
While we're on that subject, poor Mom's having a hard time right now. She's been crying a lot. And yesterday at church they made her read the announcements (fucking retards, I tell you. They should check out what they're gonna have someone read before they chose someone to do it), and one of the announcements was to ask the Dads of the congregation to stand up as we were all going to sing "Las Mañanitas" (aka Spanish version of the Birthday song--but cooler-- that can also be used for other occasions... like Mother's Day and Father's Day) to them.
You could tell Mom was having a hard time holding back tears... and she became choked up more than once when she had to continue with the announcements.

I hate watching Mom cry. She's my pillar... and when she cries... it makes me feel... I don't know... hopeless (she's one of those people that once they start crying, you start crying regardless of where you are and how many people are around to watch the scene).
We had to be retarded last night and play techno music to cheer her up (technically, it was "electric"). We played the song maybe four times, and each time, Little Sister and I would start dancing like go-go dancers and we'd ask her to join along... which she did... but it was a bad idea for 1 in the morning, and while Daddy slept.

But still, we had her dancing to "Coqueta."