#but also going oh Neil can see my soap company is on here

[meandmywackydad-blog]

Two more years of... all this.

I am bringing back coffee. My dad: Did you go to the market for coffee? Me: No. My dad: You should go there. The coffee is good. Plus there's always these old guys there. Me: Uh huh. My dad: PLUS, if you go from there up to the McDonalds on the highway, there's also old guys talking there. I think it's the SAME old guys. Me: That's a Ray Bradbury story. My dad: It is pretty Bradbury-esque. Me: No, it IS a Ray Bradbury story. It's The Crowd. My dad: And when you go to McDonalds it's the same old guys, and they're talking about the same things! Me: I've clearly read the story, Dad.

*** My father is describing the book he's reading. My dad: It's all about how the chemical company polluted the environment, and the one intrepid person who crusaded against them, stopping their tyranny, all that shit. Me: Intrepid? My dad: Oh she was quite intrepid. But of course it's a big corporation so nothing was actually accomplished. You know how it goes. Mister Smith went to Washington, Mister Deeds went to town, nothing happened. Me: Yeah. <pause> Me: That's also the worst Neil Young lyric ever. My dad: Yeah! We pause thoughtfully. Then I hear my father take a deep breath and realize what I've done. Me: NO! My dad (in Neil Young voice): MISTER SMIIIIIIITH WENT TO WAAAAAAAAAAHINGTOOOOON! MISTER DEEEEEEEEDS WENT TO TOOOOOOOOOOWNNNNN! Me: It's my own fault for saying it.

*** "Bagpipes! Oh good! That's one of your favorite sounds." - my dad

*** Alex Trebek on Jeopardy: Plato, Aristotle, Socrates. Me and my dad in unison: Morons.

*** My father and I are watching the Open when the horrible dog across the street starts barking. Me: Let me tell you how much I hate that goddamn dog. My dad: Why do you hate it? Me: Uh, possibly because it sounds like a trumpet being put in a garbage disposal? My dad: How do you know what that sounds like?

*** Text from my dad: "Bad showing from Chelsea." I immediately regret all the work I did the last 18 months.

*** Jeopardy prep. My father: What country is the largest producer of dates? Me: <chuckling> Bad dates... My father: So what was - Me: RAIDERS YOU DOPE.

*** Jeopardy prep. My father: The category is time travel movies. First question. "A Christmas Carol - " Me: A Christmas Carol isn't a time travel movie. My father: Sure it is. He goes to the past, and the future - Me: No, he's shown visions of the past and the future. My father: It's a sort of - Me: A Christmas Carol isn't a time travel story, it's a holodeck malfunction episode.

*** Jeopardy prep. My dad: This held the staff of Aaron as well as the tablets of the law. Me: What is the Ark of the Covenant. My dad: Are you sure? Me: Pretty sure.

*** Watching the golf. My father has been talking non-stop for 20 minutes. Including commercials. My father: Chris Kirk has the laziest golf swing ever. Look at this. 290 yards off the deck! With driver! And he overcooked it. These guys are so good. Ooh, I've never seen this commercial before. Me: JESUS! Do you ever take a breath?! My mother: He only does this when you're around. Me: What? Why? My father: You're a more receptive audience. Me: But I hate it! My mother: He doesn't care if it's good attention or bad attention. My father: So he wears Cobra hats instead of Nike now? 5 consecutive birdies! I think my record is three. Me: I'm going to kill myself.

*** My father: When you use soap, do you put it on in the back of the shower? Me: I, uh... I've never really considered the... geography... of it.

*** Me: Han Solo and the combined cast of Farscape couldn't come up with a worse plan than this. My father: I don't know what that - Me: IT MEANS THIS PLAN IS TERRIBLE!

*** At the grocery store laying in supplies for my father's return this weekend. Cashier: So, how many kids do you have? Me: <sigh> Me: Just the one.

*** My father is limping down the stairs. Me: Think it might be doctor time, Dad. My father: I went to the doctor. I didn't do what he told me. Me: Think it might be listen to the doctor time, Dad.

*** My father: Why hasn't someone scored yet? Me: Dad, the season is six minutes old. My father: Someone should have scored by now. These guys suck.

*** The mail has arrived. Me: Your check from SCH is here. My father: NOICE. Me: <horrible silence> Me: Please don't ever say that again.

*** Just before everybody goes to bed. My father: Did you put the sheets in the dryer? Me: Not... as such. My father: What does that mean? Me: No. <pause> Me: What else could that possibly mean?

*** Watching the Red Zone. My father: That was a dumb move there from Adrian Beat-her-son. <annoyed silence> My father: BEAT-her-son, get it? Me: Dad, the problem isn't that I don't get it.

*** Discussing our plan of attack this week for the house. My father: Agreeing to store your sister's bed was a bad idea. Me: Oh my god I'm going to pour poison in your ear while you're asleep.

*** My father: But I was a real arrogant son of a bitch back then. Me: "Was?"

*** My father has discovered Sporcle. Please kill me.

*** My father: Aside from the touchdown plays we dominated the game. Me: Dad, you lost 38-0. My father: AND WE DOMINATED.

*** Watching the Weather Channel. Me: It's weird. It's like a nor'easter, but it's coming from the southeast. My father: No. It's a southeaster. Me: THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I JUST SAID.

*** My father: You do realize the Ravens have had way more success than the Eagles, right? Me: Yeah, Dad, I can count to two.

*** My father: Merrill, what the hell are you watching? Me: Stop being mean to Merrill. My father: Nah. Me: You're awfully obnoxious for a guy who lays on a couch all day.

*** Discussing our plans for today. Me: Well, while you are reviewing film I am going to be at the matinee of Crimson Peak. My father: Dear god, why? Me: Uh, because it's a haunted house movie made by Guillermo Del Toro with Jim Beaver and Jessica Chastain. I would go see that if the tickets cost a hundred dollars. <pause> My father: You have weird priorities.

*** Finally got my dad on board with my theory that Phil Martelli is a lich. Explaining to him what a lich is could have gone better.

*** Watching the football game. My dad: I don't know what's worse about Colin Kaepernick, how inaccurate he is, or how much he looks like Squidward. Me: Like WHAT? My dad: He's a dead ringer, right? Me: What the fuck are you talking about? My dad: He looks just like Squidward! Me: Have you had a stroke? My dad: Haven't you seen SpongeBob? Me: Have -I- had a stroke?

*** My father is apparently really upset at my ignorance of SpongeBob because he's done nothing for ten minutes straight but give me a complete executive summary of the show punctuated by him shouting what I assume is the theme song.

*** Everyone is waking up. Me: Saturday morning, Dad! You know what that means! My father: Yes. It means we watch Chelsea lose. Me: I... it means I make us breakfast, dick.

*** Dropping my father off at SCH. He is wearing shorts, a long sleeve dress shirt, a windbreaker, and Crocs. Me: All right, I'm going to Penzey's. I'll be back for the game. My father: Okay. Me: You look like an idiot. My father: Don't care. Me: You should. My father: Get out of here.

*** Eating the chili. My father: Are you crying? Me: No. Shut up. It's not the chili. I'm just... thinking of the end of Gladiator. My mother: You must have stolen that line from SOMEWHERE. My father: <sigh> He didn't.

*** Talking about today's game at Malvern. My father: You have to admit, he's a good little receiver. He's like the Wes Welker of the Interac! Me: Is he going to get blown the fuck up like Wes Welker? My father: Oh yeah. Especially if we keep calling that Y-Under pattern.

*** Talking about my birthday present. My dad: I am not getting you a BMW. Me: Hmph. My dad: I tried. Me: Try more.

*** My father's aunt passed away last week and the funeral was today. I asked him how it went. My dad: Well, the people on your mother's enemies list didn't start a huge fight with her. And she didn't fight with the people on her enemies list, so I'm calling that a win. <pause> Me: Yeah. It's good that we set the bar so high. My dad: Of course, that's just the Florida edition of her enemies list. We'll see what happens when we're back up there. Me: Yup. Can barely see over that bar, it's so high.

*** My phone rings. It's my father. Me: What's up? My father: Have you gotten to the scene yet where he talks about how he hates sand? Me: <sigh> Me: Yeah, Dad. My father: Because it's so coarse! My father: <cackling> Me: <hangs up>

*** After my father and I have talked out the Pedersen hire. Me: Oh, hey, speaking of Florida winter weather, it's going to be 52 here tomorrow! My dad: I'm going to visit Tony in St. Louis tomorrow. Me: Oh, nice. What's it going to be there? My dad: 7. Me: Seven? SEVEN? My dad: 7. Me: <loud, hideous cackling> My dad: Shut up! Me: <more awful cackling> My dad: <hangs up>

*** Me: I am watching one of your favorite movies! My dad: Which? <I send a picture of the TV> My dad: Your obsession with Michael Mann is really, really weird. Me: Please. My obsession with Michael Mann doesn't crack the top 20 weirdest things about me.

*** When I arrived at Moffitt Cancer Center. My dad: Oh, good, you're here. Me: Of course I'm here. My dad: <pointing at the remote> Turn on the golf.

*** The doctors are making their rounds and telling him he has to start walking. My dad: I don't want to walk. Me: We'll walk to the pantry, it's thirty yards away. My dad: Shut up, John. Doctor: Well, uh, I think I'd like to see a more positive outlook. Me: <sigh> That IS positive.

*** My dad: Pick me up at the infusion center and we'll meet them at the bar. Should time out nice to the end of the game. Me: Going to the bar seems dumb, Dad. My dad: But I wanna go to the bar! Me: Sure, but - My dad: If nothing else I want to go so I can throw up on everybody. Me: Uh, I don't think they'd appreciate that. My dad: Fuck 'em. I got cancer. I throw up on who I want.

*** Every significant disagreement my father and I have about literature always ends up with me shouting "that interpretation is not supported by the text." Literally shouting those exact words.

*** We are watching scout tape of Hill vs. Perkiomen. Me: What's the nickname for Perkiomen? My dad: I don't remember. Me: I think when we played them they were the Indians, but I doubt they are any more. My dad: Yeah, kinda racist. I pick up my phone to look it up and my dad points at the TV. My dad: They just showed it. They're the Red Raiders. <pause> Me: Oh my god that's even MORE racist! My dad: It's like they were trying.

*** Me and my dad are talking about the start of the NHL season. My dad: How about his guy who scored four goals last night? Me: Yeah, Matthews. He's good. There's a reason he was the number one pick. My dad: And how about them losing anyway? Me: There's a reason they HAD the number one pick.

*** My dad: They stink right now. Me: THANK YOU DONNIE.

*** My sister calls my father while we're watching the football game. Me: Phone's ringing, dude. My dad: Thank you, Donnie.

*** Watching the Camping World Bowl. Me: Hey, look, former Eagles coach Pat Shurmur plays for Vanderbilt. My dad: It's his son. Me: No it isn't. My dad: It's his son! Me: You're making that up! Just admit you don't know something! My dad: He's really good. He went to LaSalle. Me: Fine! If you're going to constantly make shit up I'm going to find out who this guy actually is. <tapping on phone> My dad: What's it say? Me: Shut up.