I’m Too Tired to Think of a Title/My Dad’s Funny

I drove up the mountain to pick up my Dad for our annual pilgrimage. The first night as we ate dinner, he said, “Earthfare’s pork chops can definitely use some seasoning. (muttering) Tofu-fed hogs.”

There was a pause, and then his eyes lit up. “There’s one for your blog!” he exclaimed.

I was concerned that this self-awareness might ruin things, that he might start trying to say things for your benefit. I needn’t have worried. He quickly fell back into his usual stream-of-whatever.

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“I used to think I wanted to retire to Florida. Now I think I want to retire to Bosnia. I think I terrified my beautician yesterday when I told her I just want to go where the bullets fly.”

My favorite part of this is that Dad calls the lady at Supercuts his beautician.

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(to Redford, who was nosing the garbage can) “Get outta there! (contrite) I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

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(as he was packing) “Look at this organized guy!” (This one’s funny if you recall how he packs.)

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It sprinkled for the first hour of our trip, but when the rains started in earnest, he said, “Who would’ve predicted?!… Well, a meteorologist.”

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Me, around lunchtime: “I’m hungry. All I had this morning was a banana and some grapes.”
Dad: “I’m hungry too! I didn’t have anything for breakfast, except a banana… and lots of ice cream.”

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“You always pick the most interesting places. I would never think to stop here.”

I had pulled into Burger King.

“Last year, you stopped at Taco Bell, and we had a fine meal.”

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I turned on So You Think You Can Dance in the motel room. Mary Murphy was fist-pumping and wooing. “I wonder why Americans have the reputation of being dumb.”

After the second time Nigel made a dubious joke: “Is that guy funny, or is there a sign up above his head that says ‘Laugh’?”

We watched five routines, then: “What is this inane show about, and why does the audience keep clapping?”

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Dad: “I don’t want to dull these scissors by cutting plastic. I might need them sharp later.”
Me: “What will you need them sharp for?”
Dad: “I don’t know. Cutting hair out of nostrils or something.”

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Dad wanted to stop at Walmart or Kmart to buy “some $2.98 Chinese canvas shoes”. “A couple of years ago, I bought some Keen’s. They cost about $65. I got them wet once, and they smelled like a bucket of dead worms.”

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“I was thinking, as a hobby, I should learn a couple hundred jokes and tell them to people. ‘Man and a monkey walked into a bar’—that kind of thing.”

Dad, I don’t think you need to.