Too Many Assholes

Dad: (surprised) I didn’t run into too many assholes today.

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Me, trying to find some relatively healthy road snacks: How about lima bean hummus?
Dad: No hummus of any kind.
Me: No?
Dad: Gook.
Me: But it’s delicious gook.
Dad: GOOK!

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My dad’s plumber’s cleavage is a chronic problem. It’s not just a coin slot when he sits down; fully half of his ass shows, much of the time.

Dad, patting back pocket for his wallet: One little thing.
Me: Pull your pants up.
Dad: Two little things.

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Dad, to Redford whom he is resisting feeding people snacks: Would it help to know that a hungry dog is a healthy dog?

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Dad’s reading the New York Times. Redford bashes into it like a high school football team going through the cheerleaders’ homecoming banner and puts his head in Dad’s lap.

Dad: You think that’s funny, don’t you?… Well, so do I.

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Tear It Up comes on the radio.

Dad: Is there any music that goes along with this?

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Dad, re Violet: She looks like she’s worried about the stock market this morning.

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Dad: I’m trying to make order out of chaos… Who said the leopard can’t change his stripes?

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Dad, futzing around on my mom’s iPad: What happens if I press this? Nothing. What happens if I do it again? Nothing.

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Dad: So I took an Ambien and made a cheese sandwich.
Me: You have got to learn some transcendental meditation.
Dad: Ohm… Ohm… OHMYGOD, I DON’T WANNA FACE TOMORROW.

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