When my dad is not busy farting and singing dirty songs, he can be a sweet, sweet man. He offered to run to Starbucks and pick me up an iced coffee. (I did get him a burrito yesterday from Taco Bell. So I can do more than make fun of his shoes.) About 20 minutes later, he comes out of the bathroom.
Dad: Bye, I’m leaving!
Me: Oh, I thought you left?
Dad: No, I was in there draining my poop chute!
Me: Oh, GROSS, Dad!
Dad: What, you don’t poop, do you?
Me: That’s none of your business.
Dad: What do you say when someone asks what you were doing in the bathroom?
Me: Well, most people don’t ask, and if they do, I just say, “I was using the restroom.”
Dad: You know, Tina, when I was your age, I didn’t shit at all. I had my body trained to such an extreme marvel, that I didn’t shit for 12 years. I ate just enough that my body used it 100%.
Me: You’re lying.
Dad: Why don’t you believe me?
Me: Goodbye, Dad!