Sunday, September 03, 2006

My Dad---YIKES

I don't typically post about things other than the kids but I think in order for the kids to truly understand their dear Poppy, I have to devote a special post to him.

My Dad is "special" in certain ways. And what I mean by that is that sometimes he's not so smart. My Mom, Dad, Aron, and I were all driving home from the OSU/N Illinois game yesterday when we starting talking about what makes my Dad so "special." We got started on this subject because while we were trying to get out of the game, we noticed that our friends the Cooperriders were just a few cars ahead of us. We tried to get Dad to speed up and get up by them but he was like "Huh? What? I don't get it. What do you want me to do?" By the time he figured it out, the moment was passed and they were way too far ahead for us to catch up (my Mom wanted me to moon the Cooperriders if we caught up to them but that's beyond the point--Mr. Cooperrider and I have a history that goes waaaaaaaaay back to the 90's but I'll leave for another day). Anyhoos, my Mom was complaining that I was probably a wild child in college that led all of my poor friends astray. I then reminded her of the time that my friend, Tori, went to a frat party when we were sophomores (no I wasn't there) and it happened to be the frat that Dad was in when he was in college. She told my Dad that she drank something called "Boar Juice" and that 2 sips of it knocked her on her keister. My Dad's response was "Seriously? They still make that? Don't drink it any more. I can't tell you what's in it but don't drink it. Seriously." So if there was any wildness going on in college it was Dad. Anyhoos, I digress.

After that we got talking about how Dad's clueless sometimes. Like the time when I was in college and I called in to a radio station and won $100 playing the Letter Game. The premise is that they call out a letter then the 50th caller that calls in with that letter in their name gets $100. I won with the letter N. Ok, so later on that week or month or something, I was in the car with my Dad and the Letter Game comes on and its the letter V. Dad's sitting there going "Huh, that's a hard one. Who would have a V in their name? Veronica? Victor? Huh, that's really hard. I can't think of any other names with a V in it. Can you?" Me, being the Smarty Pants that I am said something to the effect of "Um, you mean like you? DAVID???" It was painful for me at the moment to realize that I was now smarter than my Dad. But not so painful that I wouldn't mock him about it.

There's also about a month ago when we were in Michigan for Robin and my 30th birthday extravaganza. It was me, Robin, Mom, and Dad in a car for a long period of time. We all kept calling my Dad the Bag Boy and made him carry around our purchases or walk them to the car--bless him for that let me tell you because we purchased a lot. Anyhoos, digression again. Ok so we're heading home on Route 75. We're driving along, driving along, driving along. All the sudden, Dad goes "Hey look guys. The Pontiac Silverdome." I tried to be polite and go "uh, huh." until I suddently I realized that the Silverdome is in DETROIT! Detroit was like an hour out of our way! I said "Dad! We're in Detroit!" He said "No, we're not. We just passed the Silverdome." I said "Yeah the Silverdome that's IN DETROIT!!" He was like "Seriously? I saw our road vear off a while ago...should I have followed it?" DAD! DAD!! Yes! You should've followed the road you KNEW WE WANTED TO BE ON!!!!!!

Oh sigh. What will he be like when dementia hits? Oh heavy sigh.

2 comments:

Annie said...

Yeah, well at least you've always known that my Dad's name isn't Dick...

Anonymous said...

Oh you kids! You don’t realize that we humor you so that you will keep us when we are old and decrepit. Your degree might be in psychology kiddo, but I use it more on you than you’ll ever dream of using on me. Snort, snort, grunt!!! That’s pig talk I learned in college. Victoria, you should not have gone into the pig pen (without supervision) until you were of legal drinking age.