The Ol’ Man’s one-liners from family Thanksgiving as transcribed by my cousin Cara Depew. She calls him Uncle Dingus. It is fitting.
“Is that a natural body odor coming off one of you two, or is that one of the animals? Damn that smells good. Is that Grandma?” -Dingus
“God, I was looking at YouTube last night. I wanted to see videos of chimps attacking people, but there was all these videos of chimps mating. And there was this one of a chimp trying to get with a sheep. The sheep wasn’t having it, so the chimp went around front and started humpin’ his face! You know, I got into a regular fuckfest! I know you’re going to go look it now. They was doing the wild thing.” -Dingus
“If I saw you mating with a chimp, I’d leave…to go get my camera. Then you’d be on YouTube. This is Tina with BONZOOO. Hahaha. No, I’d leave, Tina. So you can do want you want to do. Do you thing.” -Dingus
Also check out our Shit My Family Says Facebook page, curated by us. Because my family is kinda awesome-slash-nuts.
Earlier today, TOM and I were having a discussion via FaceTime.
Dad: Your hair looks nice.
Me: Thank you. I hate my forehead wrinkles.
Dad: Well, you could hang a 3-pound weight from your upper lip.
Me: Why? My lip isn’t connected to my forehead.
Dad: Everyone knows that if you stretch your lip out, it will also stretch your forehead. You can start with a 3-pounder, and work up to 10 pounds.
Me: That won’t help.
Dad: Do you see any wrinkles on my forehead?
Dad: That’s because I walked around with a 10-pound dumbbell attached to my lip for years.
When it comes to my father, I will believe anything he says. Anything. Remember those boxes of mini chocolate chip cookies from McDonald’s? I loved them with all my heart and soul. When I was 5, TOM told me a kid up the street ate so many of those cookies that he turned into one. A cookie. I imagined a walking cookie with eyes and arms. This terrified me. For the next six months, I would not touch a cookie of any kind. Especially the McDonald’s ones.
Today at lunch, my dad and I somehow got on the subject of hunting. He said he could never shoot a deer. He then said he wrestled a bear once.
Me: You’re lying.
Dad: I am not.
Me: I just saw you smile!
Dad: Yea… because it was one of the proudest moments of my life!
Dad: Yes! An 8-foot-tall grizzly bear. I won. It was a big ol’ bloodfest.
Me: OK, now you’re lying.
Dad: I also had sex with a bear once.
Dad: Yea, that mama bear sure did hate it.
Me: DAD! Can you please not go there, just once? I’m trying to eat.
Dad: OK. I’m sorry.
Sigh. Thirty minutes later… Continue reading
WARNING: This will probably offend you. Just know that my dad means well and often doesn’t think before he speaks to his “rich, beautiful, young daughter.” (His words, not mine.) To be fair, I rarely think before I speak, either.
I went over to my dad’s house yesterday to eat fried tacos and watch Full Metal Jacket — that 1987 Stanley Kubrick war movie. TOM says this is the best representation of boot camp that he’s ever seen, meaning, boot camp in the 1960s. He says boot camp today is a lot different. He also says that his boot camp was even worse than the one in Full Metal Jacket (remember when this happened?)
My dad was kind enough to answer all my questions, like why the drill sergeants are so mean. His response makes perfect sense — that you come in as individuals, but you leave as one unit. They break you down so that everything you know and think is gone, and then they build you up as a whole so you can leave a strong fighting machine. TOM says that boot camp was one of the hardest things he’s ever had to endure, and he often draws on his experience there when getting through tough times.
While watching war movies, my dad gets pretty into them and often forgets that I am his daughter. He uses dirty language (far more than usual), and I guess he regresses back to the potty-mouthed man he was in 1969. Last night, when dinner was ready and the movie was paused, my dad yelled at me from the kitchen, “Come in here and get your dinner before I drag you in here by your f*ck hole and make you eat it!” Wide-eyed, mouth agape, I was stunned. My dad ran into the living room, “Oh my God, Tina, I am so sorry! I can’t believe I just said that to you! I just get into these movies…” He clearly felt bad. I was still in shock. Then we both started laughing. Yea, that’s my pop.
Earlier today, my dad and I were chatting on FaceTime via his iPad and my MacBook. That’s when you talk to each other using a camera. Like Skype. My father is usually on his couch in his pajamas and I am wherever I happen to be at the time. Today, I was at my favorite coffee shop.
Dad: You sure do have pretty eyes, Tina.
Me: Thank you!
Dad: You do, just like your mother. You know you were born three months premature, right?
Me: Yes, Dad. I weighed 2 pounds, 3 ounces.
Dad: Right. Well, a few weeks after you were born, one of the doctors told us he thought you were a mongoloid.
Me: Oh my God, what’s that??
Dad: Like, that you had Down’s syndrome.
Me: Oh my God, really?!? You never told me that!
Dad: It’s true. Your eyes were very wide set. He didn’t say “mongoloid” — that’s my word. But he did say Down’s syndrome. We freaked the f*ck out.
Me: What happened?
Dad: We went to another doctor who looked at your hands and feet and said that the other doctor’s license should be pulled. You clearly didn’t have Down’s syndrome. But you do have Dumb syndrome.
Me: Thanks, Dad.
I was chatting with my dad the other day, and as it often does, the conversation quickly turned south. As in the Ol’ Dirty South.
Dad: So, did I tell you I really like my new iPad?
Me: Yes. I’m glad you like it.
Dad: Oh! I didn’t tell you. I was looking at YouTube the other day. And I found animal sex!
Me: Why were you looking up animal sex?!
Dad: I wasn’t looking it up! You know how when you watch a video, it suggests more similar videos for you to watch? Well, I kept clicking and watching a bunch of stuff until eventually I found these dirty videos!
Me: Gross. Continue reading
My dad came over tonight for Chipotle and a friendly game of Rummy. When we play Rummy, we play for a dime a point. When one of us hits 500 points, the game ends. Tonight I won $12.50.
Towards the end of the night, I asked my dad if he wanted to help me fold clothes. I hate laundry. Hate it. I thought I would enjoy it now that I don’t have to lug it five blocks to the laundromat, but nope. Being the helpful guy that he is, of course he assisted me with this horrid chore. Immediately, I realized this was a mistake. I quickly gathered all of my undergarments and stuffed them in their respective drawers. My dad felt the need to inspect every item very closely. The white bleach spots on my 2003 Sigma Chi Assault Ball T-shirt. The perma-stains on the bottom of my workout socks. My lone pair of black panty hose that I failed to grab. Ooooh, fuuuuudge. As he turned the feet inside out, he tangled them around his neck and began to strike various poses like he was about to go into battle with the Karate Kid. “Please give me my tights back,” I begged. “Please.” And then he saw that little bit of extra fabric that all pairs of tights and panty hose have in the, um, groin area.
Dad: What the f*ck is this little area?
Me: I don’t know! All tights have it. Just give them back to me.
Dad: Why do girls’ panties have that bit of extra fabric there? Guys don’t have that in their tighty whities!
Me: I don’t know why!
Dad: What, is it to help the stench? To stop leakage? Did the panty-hose makers just have extra rags lying around and they thought they’d slap them in the crotch?
Me: Dad. Give me back my tights.
Before leaving my apartment, my dad used the restroom. Upon his return, of course he just had to comment on my lady products.
Dad: That’s some top-shelf deodorant you have in there!
Dad: That Chanel Number 5? It smells real good on my pits!
Me: DAD! You can go home now.