Then they just lay there and burn

This is from a story much better told by Ojo. (Why does it seem like I'm always saying that?) At any rate, the short version of this story is that my dad, Ojo, our grandfather, and our younger cousin were out fishing when a nasty storm blew in. (Robo and his dad may have been with them as well, I'm not sure.) Initially my dad thought they could just outrun the stormfront and keep fishing as the storm blew ashore behind them. It didn't take long, however, for him to recognize that this storm was a) bigger than he thought, b) faster than he thought, and c) moving a different direction than he thought.
At this point he decided to just find a spot where the boat was least likely to sustain damage and drop anchor to ride out the storm. Everyone's getting drenched, freezing in the 30+ mph winds, and getting scared of all the lightning tearing through the sky. My younger cousin was hunkered down under the console narrating all the problems that faced them: "The wind's getting stronger. The waves are getting higher. The rain's getting harder."

Those who know Ojo are probably not surprised to hear that he was not a big fan of the strategy of entrusting their fates to the mercy of Mother Nature. So he wanted to come up with a better plan and asked dad, "What happens if that lightning strikes the boat?" To which dad replied, matter-of-factly, "Well, if that happens, we all die." Instant classic, only, of course, because they did not have to put that prediction to the test.

And a little bit nauseating

My dad just said this a lot. Not sure why. I guess he was a big Tarzan fan as a kid. My aunts all talk about him running around saying this whenever they'd have friends over.

Now my head is going to hurt the rest of the day

My dad actually ripped this off from my mom's dad. Legend has it my alcoholic grandfather would sit on the side of the bed rueing whatever his latest transgression was and mutter "I'm a sorry sumbitch."

Life is full of disappointments

This is a recent one detailed on my other blog here.

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.

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.

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.