This weekend Jeremy, my parent’s, and I went to Portland. These are some of the choice things heard during that trip.
*Said while driving into the parking lot of our hotel*
Mom: Get out of the way, dickhead.
Dad: Sir, your head looks like a dick.
*Said while on the way to The Grotto, The National Sanctuary of Our Sorrowful Mother*
Mom: This sanctuary better be serene or I’m going to be fucking pissed.
*Said while relating a past banana split experience*
Dad: I ordered a banana split once, and when I reached the end I realized there was no freaking banana! When I told the waitress she said, ‘Do you want me to bring you a banana?’ No! You can take that banana and shove it up your banana shove space!
*Said after Jer expressed concern over setting the dirty stroller wheels on my mom’s sweater*
Dad: It wouldn’t be the first time my dirty wheels have been on that sweater.
*Said in defense of his earlier comments*
Dad: I don’t say things that are dirty, I make innuendos. I just follow it up by saying I don’t know what that means.
Me: Right, because that makes it ok.
Dad: Hey, “dirty wheels” isn’t dirty.
Me: It is when you say it.