Conjulations

That's what my dad says instead of "Congratulations." No, he's not retarded, he's actually a successful, self-made real estate mogul who has yet to master the English language. This despite, 30 some odd years in the U.S. This deficiency would manifest itself in the most devastating ways when I was growing up here in East Texas. I say "here" because I am currently in East Texas visiting my family who have continued their sentence since my departure.
Yesterday, I was having breakfast with my mother after she picked me up from the airport and my dad popped in to say hello. I told him about how I got called to the podium for an unexpected upgrade to first class because of my newly minted "Elite" status on Continental. It was actually a funny story because, after years of flying stand-by as a kid (my parents owned a travel agency and we were always "Non-revenue" passengers, a term I came to equate with cheap bastards), I was terrified of being bumped from a flight no matter what the circumstances. My dad chuckled and said, "Conjulations." My sister, currently camped out at my parent's house as she bitterly awaits her California Bar results, almost choked on her baguette. My mom rolled her eyes and my dad cleared his throat and in what I can only assume was an attempt to rectify his gaffe added, "Good luck."
I could go on but why? Why make the man who is responsible for my birth (not to mention a myriad of issues I'm told I have about men)sound like Apu from "The Simpsons?" Because it's funny. But I'll stop. For now, I'll relent.