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Reason #345,665 why I love my dad.
10:28 p.m.

Reason #345,665 why I love my dad.

I called my dad on the phone today from my sister's work just to let him know that we were going to go out for dinner.

Me: Dad, we're going to get dinner, ok?

Dad, in a Filipino accent: (who doesn't answer the question) What did you spend your money on at the mall?

Me: (frustrated) I bought a shirt and some shoes.

Dad: (this time, louder tone of voice) WHA-A-AT? You ul-ways buy buy buy shoes and you nebher wear them. You hab too many already.

Me: (still frustrated) Dad, you're the one that tells me that it's my money and you don't care what I spend it on. At least I'm not spending it on anything illegal...

[starts to think of crack, weed, big Canadian toilet bowls and male hookers. Wait. Mail hookers?]

Dad: Ok, well, its your own business. I don't care.

Me: (confused) I guess I can go out to dinner then, bye.

Really! I love my dad. Heh, its just that sometimes he confuses me. I think parents were put on this earth to confuse their kids with irrelevant reasonings and to torture them with redundant lectures on why it is essential in life to make your bed every morning.

Oh, and also to give them money and spoil bratty girls like me.

::glows::

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I'm G-R-A-C-E. I live in the burning pits of Suburbia Hell, Houston, TX. My social life's an utter bore, my love life ceases to exist, my bank account keeps shrinking, my waistline is constantly expanding.....

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