Category Archives: Food Issues

My Dad Is Definitely NOT A ‘Bronie’

My dad and I were having dinner last night at one of those brew pub bar & grills, when TOM proceeded to smear large amounts of mayonnaise on his cheeseburger (pictured, left).

Me: EWWW!!! GROSS. That is so gross, Dad.
Dad: What?? It’s not like it’s cum, Tina. I didn’t bust a nut on my cheeseburger, for crying out loud.
Me: Thanks, the cheeseburger and I both appreciate that.
Dad: Speaking of cum…
Me: Oh God.
Dad: I heard on Howard Stern this morning that people are masturbating to My Little Pony stuff! They call themselves “Bronies.”
Me: I’ve vaguely heard of that.
Dad: It’s pitiful, right?
Me: Yeah.

Photo via The Count.

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Thanksgiving Musings

A conversation overheard after Thanksgiving dinner with the family:

Dad: I am merely a sardine in the company of whales.
Me: Dad! That’s mean!
Dad: What? That’s a compliment! I am merely a sardine in the company of saints.
Me: Calling someone a whale is not a compliment.
Dad: I’m not going to sit here and verbally thrust and parry with you.
Me: I don’t want to thrust ANYTHING with you!
Dad: Tina, I’m not talking about that! It’s a fencing term.
Me:
Uncle Steve (laughing): I’m about to shit myself.

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Expired Milk Is Expired, Spoiled Or Not

Am I wrong for refusing to drink milk the day after it expires? I don’t care if it tastes normal and smells the opposite of sour. I draw the line at expired milk; the mere idea of it grosses me out. My father wants to pour the milk I use for my Lucky Charms into one of his tupperware containers so I can no longer see the expiration date. I don’t agree with this move whatsoever.

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My Dad, Professional Plastic Hoarder

My dad remodeled our kitchen back in 1999, a year after my mother passed away. I am quite certain that the kitchen hasn’t had a deep cleaning since he vacuumed up the sawdust after building and installing the cabinets. Last week, with the help of my dad’s kind friend Aimee, I went through the cabinets one by one, cleaning the shelves and organizing the dishes. Oddly, every cabinet we opened housed a large stack of plastic containers — Tupperware, Rubbermaid, Ziploc, along with former food tubs that once stored butter, cottage cheese, whipped cream (often used for making ice), coffee grounds, jelly, even a lone empty bear-shaped honey bottle. They were all washed and ready to store… what, 247 tons of leftover meatloaf?

He agreed to toss three-fourths of the cottage cheese and butter tubs, along with any plastic that was warped and stained red from his homemade tomato sauce. Five cabinets full of plastic was reduced down to one.

So you can imagine my shock earlier tonight when I came across this empty bottle in the dish drainer.

Me: Dad! What is this?!
Dad: What is WHAT?
Me (holding up Listerine bottle): THIS!
Dad: It’s my Listerine bottle!
Me: I know! We just went through your issues with hoarding plastic!
Dad: What’s your point?
Me: Do you have a plan for this empty bottle?
Dad: Of course I have a plan! I have a large bottle of mouthwash that I pour into that smaller bottle!
Me: OK. As long as you have a plan for it.

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Late Night Snacktime

My dad is a night owl. For years, I would wake up at 3am to use the restroom, only to find him in his office, snoring face-down on his keyboard. Now my father spends his evenings watching action movies in his bedroom — this way, if he nods out, he is already in bed. I think this is a smart move.

He also makes a lot of Ramen Noodles in the middle of the night. Seeing as my childhood bedroom is near the kitchen, I often wake up to hear miscellaneous kitchen noises. The microwave. Clinking of dishes. It’s 2am. Time for Ramen Noodles. I know this is what he is doing, because when I brush my teeth in the morning, I’ll find bits of Ramen in the bathroom sink where he washes his noodle bowl. My dad — 61 years old going on 21.

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The Great Ice Debate

Today I opened the freezer at my dad’s house and found 10 Stouffer’s frozen dinners and five Cool Whip containers filled with water, also frozen.

Me: Why do you have five Cool Whip tubs filled with water in the freezer?
Dad: Because I don’t have any ice cube trays.
Me: Um…
Dad: Let me show you how it’s done.

He dumps each tub of ice into a large plastic bin and proceeds to break up the ice spheres with a small rusty hammer. He then puts the bin of “crushed ice” back in the freezer for beverages.

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Filed under Food Issues, Lifestyle Differences, My Dad Is Nuts