Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Maybe I taste better than you

My dad thinks farts are funny. Always has. Always will. At some point my mom gave up, but when we were kids she would gently chastise him for being disgusting whenever he'd let one rip. His response was always the same, "What do you want me to do, blow up?" He really sold the sincerity of his question with his intonation and demeanor, as if he actually thought he might explode if he didn't relieve the pressure within his bowels through flatulence.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

I'll just go back to bed

I was in college when I first noticed my parents start saying this. I can't imagine that my mom came up with it, so I'm assigning the genesis to my dad. Basically whenever they are concerned about some social issue like not dressing appropriately for an occasion, they end the discussion by saying "You know what we say."

And what they say is, "Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke."

I learned that in their hotel room in Waco as they were getting dressed for my Phi Beta Kappa induction. A little yin for that yang as it were.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

I've never had one fall on me

This one really requires audio to do it justice, but oh well.

Jessie is this unfortunate soul who was born into a body too hideous for society to accept. She grew up across the street from my dad and still lives across from my grandparents. Apparently she was friends with my dad and his sisters until around middle school, when being a freakish mutant can be damaging to one's social standing.

So they stopped hanging out with her about 45 years ago. But she never got the hint. She still waddles over to my grandparents whenever she sees an extra car or two parked out front. Once I was parked out front of my grandparents with my girlfriend, making out at 11 o'clock at night when she comes shining a flashlight in on us. I think Ojo and Snake have had similar experiences.

Anyway, whenever she pops in on family occasions things get awkward because no one wants her there but everyone is too polite to tell her to go away. (Except for me, I just don't tell her because she's batshit crazy and I'm afraid tipping her the wrong direction could end with one or both of my grandparents being "hobbled".) Eventually she tires of the giant voids in the conversation her presence creates and leaves. Then the jokes start. My dad is by no means alone in the cruel humor directed at this poor wretch. Most of my aunts and uncles have a go, and my grandfather almost never misses a chance. If anything my dad is more tame than most in his zingers. But he always says her name this way, like a narrator revealing some unspeakable horror.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

how can you sleep nights

One night my mom went out, leaving Ojo, me, and Snake with my dad for the night. It was a great night. We played Yahtzee and had Sara Lee pound cake with spray on whipped cream. Snake layed the whipped cream on pretty damn thick, making an eight-inch-tall spire of bleached corn syrupy goodness. My dad saw it start to tip over and called out "Tiiiimberrr!" For some reason we thought that was some funny shit. It doesn't seem that funny now, but that night remains one of my best memories with Dad.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

fascinated by failure

As part of a wedding present from my mom to my then-fiance, my mom went through all the pictures she had of me, from age zero to present. My parents were visiting a couple years ago and my mom found the album she had given my wife. She started talking about how it felt going through all those old pictures. "I thought Dad was going to lay down and cry," she said, implying that my dad was so touched by memories of my youth that he was nigh overcome with emotion.
I think my dad was a little embarassed at this disclosure of his emotional state. So he replied with "Made me want to lay down and DIE." The implication of which I'm still not quite sure.