Caray, Caray!

Buenas noches a todos.

Alternate titles:
Can you donate blood if it contains fire?
How many sherry-soaked brains does it take to reach a verisimilitude?

How convenient that Ricky happened to break and enter into the Elizondo home just as Gabi was getting all hot and bothered after listening in on all the fun they were having in the next room over. However, rooms turn over rather quickly at this joint, and it’s not really “prudent” for Ricky and Gabi to see that Fernie tied Ricky’s daughter to the bed post and used the vino tinto as a personal lubricant. Root sits naked on the bed, feeling betrayed, bewildered, but mostly sexy and amazed. She ponders her sexual appeal to middle-aged “hacendados” and wonders why her other gentleman friend came to wake her.

Unfortunately for Gabi, Ricky didn’t come for a quickie. Mostly, he’s just pissed that he saw Juan kissing his daughter. “Imaginate.” The son of his arch-nemesis kissing his only daughter. How could she be so lucky? Gabi coyly reminds him that Robles-Reyes was only a mere rival; which makes the kissing all the more appropriate. For the love of his daughter he slapped the shit out of Juan. Oh, how he loves his daughter. Gabi: “If he only knew that Root isn’t his daughter.” And to think, all the sadistic beatings and “wine showers” he missed… At least he has the comfort of knowing that his thoughts were not wholly incestuous, but merely unrealistic considering his age.

Another episode, another failed attempt of Raquel to pass for Judy Garland. Mainly it’s the hair and outfit, downing narcotics with Johnny Walkers, and competing with her much more qualified and talented daughter for a place in the audience’s heart. Now, like our beloved Judy, she’s hit rock bottom and wants to confess to Pad Tad. This alone could send her on the Farewell Tour that never stops farewelling…

It seems that the adopted kid is still having diabetic problems, or whatever they “think” she might have. Because it’s been over two weeks and they haven’t found anything, they’re sending tests to Puebla, which at most, would be like sending test results to Hattiesburg, Mississippi. (Holla to all the Dale Earnhardt Jr. fans)

So Raquel gets on her knees and starts talking about Root. Here we go... Before she can continue, Pad Tad rudely interfjects that he already knows that Root is Eva’s daughter. Woa, woa, woa! This is HER confession, buddy. Yes, Pad Tad is a bigger town gossip than the local gas-station clerk, and is always on top of the ever-changing, local genealogy. Shot down, once again. Raquel tells Pad Tad that Root is NOT the daughter of Eva, but the daughter of Gabi… OMG! This will make him the most popular priest on Facebook! Now he knows even more scandalous, albeit obvious, information which he can undoubtedly share with his fellow clergy and patrons at the next Swiss Steak Bingo Hall.

Here’s my thing: looking at all the women on this show, it’s obvious that they weren’t turning tricks in the dark every night of their bygone youth. So I ask, with full comprehension that Sofia is the “smart one” in the family; how could you finally get lucky after years of useless flirting, carry a kid for nine months, pop the thing out one crazy, forgotten night, and then have no inclination whatsoever if the local Hoochie Mamma might be the biological fruit of your loins? Think about it, because I know these idiots didn’t…

Well, we know that whatever Miss Judy slurs to Pad Tad must be true because the subsequent scene is Gabi telling Ricky how much Root is like her. I mean, after all, they are so similar, they would have to be mother and daughter, right? Surely Root would make a better daughter than Sofia, so why not trade babies thirty years later? It would be like the ultimate layaway program, ever.

The story goes like this, props to you if you guessed it: One sunny day, Raquel was holding Eva’s baby while nobody else was home. Hmm… She was really itching for her 10:30 Cosmo and ciggie, so you can imagine how nervous she was. Just then, she suddenly remembered that Gabi’s newborn was left unattended in the next room over. From the bridge of the nose and the seemingly flat forehead, Raquel instantly knew that that kid would sell much easier on the black market (I mean, it’s real estate after all). So, to spite Gabi, but mostly because she had a killer hang over, Raquel switched the black-haired kid for the bald kid. They were both in white blankets, and nobody around was conscious, so what’s the prob.? Then, apparently (remember, we're getting this from a drunk), Gabi took advantage of Raquel’s drunken fit, and refused to return Sofia unless Raquel gave her the Robles-Reyes land because it came with a damn-good watering system. After carefully weighing her options and deciding that Root could do much better on the black market than an easily-replaceable sprinkler system, she said “NO DEAL.”
After finding that Root didn’t sell as quickly as she anticipated, Raquel’s been resenting that decision for years. But, these things happen when you lose consciousness before noon (Like I always say, that’s when you know you have a problem.). That’s why, with the grace of God, she wants to change. Now I can officially say; like Jesus, and Liza, and Judy, Raquel is making a comeback.

Pad Tad is reflecting on today’s very important and scandalous confession from a former alcoholic and substance abuser. He laughs as he reminds himself that God’s mysterious paths always end up working-out for (mostly) everyone. That is, unless the miraculous paths interweave and end in turmoil and disaster. He looks for his friend on his left shoulder, he’s not there. He looks for the other friend on his right shoulder, not there either. These disappearances ignite a painful, albeit obviously insightful, memory. It was when Rosendo, the ubiquitous and multi-purpose ranch hand, informed Pad Tad that Ricky was scheming to kill the Robles-Reyes. Damn it, he says, why didn’t I listen to him and Raquel? God, as always, fill me with the light so that I can help these hopelessly desperate, witlessly insane people. God, please don’t unleash Pad Tad on these helplessly desperate morons—you saw what happened last time… and the time before...

Just when poor, alcoholic, border-line suicidal Raquel had clung-on to a bit of the false hope Pad Tad miraculously instilled in her, she walked in on Ricky and Gabi mindlessly and passionately making suck face. If this doesn’t push her over the rainbow’s edge, I don’t know what will…

And another thing, you don’t just walk-in on people while they’re in their own home. I mean seriously, you wouldn’t just walk up to any old hacienda and decide to go in without knocking or asking to enter it. And another thing, did Raquel actually think Ricky was being a faithful husband? Though, her poor sherry-soaked brain probably didn’t know the difference…

Root shivers with sensuality and excitement as she remembers the “special” way Fernie tied her delicate wrists to that hard, sturdy bed post and made a woman out of her by pouring cool, sweet merlot over her white-hot, lily skin. The thrusting, the banging; it all seemed so surreal. No one has ever made her feel so alive, so feminine. What a shame that he’s Gabi’s husband; surely, she could never fully appreciate all his manhood.

What is it with these people? They “can’t sleep” so they drink even more booze and start expressing themselves through art. Well, I guess it's not as bad as booze AND ambien. Fernie’s rendition of Capricho looks like something a paraplegic first grader made with his eyes closed. Gabi ruined the mood, so he crosses-out his refrigerator-quality work with charcoal. Basically, both have moved on to bigger and better pastures while still holding strong to the simply unachievable, unrealistic, and un-fun image of monogamy. By pretending to be hurt by each other’s deceiving ways, they perpetuate their misery and failing image of a functional marriage. (Am I dramatic or cynical? Only time will tell...)

Now the adopted kid is in the hospital and like every other time someone goes to the hospital on this show, she “might not make it.” Well, slap my ass and call me Sally, I sure as hell hope the kid doesn’t make it, then all my problems would be solved, says Gabi.

As if Raquel hadn’t already reached rock-bottom, the kid she knows as her “daughter” tells her to get packing, and never return to see her again. Somehow, Raquel is strong enough to get up in Gabi’s grill and express whatever catty feelings her alcoholism had left inside her. Gabi is not surprised by Root’s behavior; after all, it’s just like something she would do. And sure as hell, while she’s got little Root in her hands, she’ll channel her evil powers in order to get what she wants. She then comes to the realization that Raquel is not her arch-nemesis, but that damn Eva, who happens to be…what?... you guessed it, praying. She simply does not understand why she feels this inexplicable maternal bond to Sofia.

Back at the hospital, they finally found out what was wrong with the kid; she isn’t Juan’s or Sofia’s biological kid. That was the problem…! No, actually, we already knew it; see, we adopted her out of love. Bull shit. You “adopted” her because you wanted your real kid, but you didn’t want to put all three through DNA testing because you’d look like hypocritical morons. Yes, even you two idiots drummed-up enough intelligence to think that one through. Too late, though. Well, even though you’re not her “real father” you’re still good enough to donate your blood to her. Sofia would just die if her daughter dies, I mean, who would take care of her when she gets old, who would she bitch slap every time she got drunk, and who would she have to swap or sell in case she needed drug money or sprinkler systems?

It’s time for the transplant. Things go from bad to ugly to worse when Juan’s baby’s heartbeat lowers two beats/minute. It’s terribly dramatic. Juan even prays for the heartbeat to raise two beats. My question is; how can you donate blood if it has fire in it?

Tomorrow: We all know that Juan would give his last drop of blood for his daughter (?). That’s why the transplant is crucial. But will they survive? Let’s hope not… Though, something tells me that they probably will…

That’s it, kiddies. Sayonara. I’m off for a two-week hiatus in Cozumel. Maybe I’ll find myself and “grow-up,” as some of you have suggested. Doubt it!!!

Until then, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year! And to all a good night!

Labels: Fuego