Here's some weird shit Dad has said lately

We've got nothing. I mean, there are funny things all the time, but we've gotten kind of sucky at writing everything down. So, here's some weird shit we've said lately (mostly Dad) and a mix-up by Jesse that could have gone horribly wrong for him if Lindsay wasn't so totally awesome.

Email thread from last week.

Lindsay: I don't know what kind of bus karma I have, but I always seem  to get stuck in front of or next to someone with a disgusting cough who lacks the decency to cover their mouth. Yuck.

Mom: That sucks.  I sometimes had to sit next to a guy who didn’t wear underwear and wouldn’t zip his fly.

Lindsay:  Ew, Mom. When and where was this?

Mom:  When I first moved to Seattle, I lived in Colombia City right off Rainier Ave.  The bus stop was in front of my apartment, so I took the bus to and from work every day.  The bus ride was fine until we got to 3^rd and Pine and the “free” zone.  I always tried to sit with someone that I thought was going to continue to ride and then I was safe.  If I picked wrong and they got off at the Post Office, then I was screwed.

Dad: Sorry, it was me…

Sara: This. This right fucking here. I’m dying.

Mom: That is disgusting!!  

Dad: But very funny...

Sara: One night I was riding home late, and sat up front. This one bum who, for whatever reason, I have run into several times over the last few years, was sitting near me (he’s fairly recognizable. Black. Dreds. In a wheelchair with one leg. Very nice, albeit crazy dude). He started talking to me and soon his other bum friends joined in and after a few minutes we were all laughing and chatting.

Then I realized that all of the normal people were sitting in the back looking terrified while this little white girl and 4 big black homeless men laughed their faces off in the front. I get along better with bums than I do normal people. 

Lindsay: Were you high?

Sara: It was pretty HIGHlarious


Remember a couple months ago when Sara got her words mixed up and called Lindsay a rapist when she meant to say racist? Well, Jesse took a page out of Sara's book the other day. Lindsay was getting ready to take a shower and they were joking around. Jesse sometimes will call Lindsay a "scamp" when they're being playful. I don't know what it means either, but it's an endearing name. Instead, Jesse got his words mixed up and said, while giving her a pat on the butt:

"Now get in there ya little skank."

He didn't catch his mix-up until Lindsay turned around asked incredulously:
"Did you really just call your pregnant wife a skank?"  

See what I mean? That could have ended really badly for him.

Although while Jesse mixes up his words intentionally, Dad prefers to go straight for male suicide. Sara overheard him say this to his inside sales rep, Celeste, at work the other day...

Dad: Celeste, when are you going to jump on the stick and start making some babies? 

Celeste: Shut up, Brock!

Dad: And I mean that literally. 

Or there was this one he pulled at dinner:

Sara: I work out in the morning now and it's turning me into a morning person. Put that on the list of things I never thought I'd say seriously. 

Dad: Yeah, I noticed. Look at how skinny you are! Lindsay...not so much.

Lindsay: Because I'm fucking pregnant, dad. I'm supposed to have a jolly round belly. 

Dad: Sure, if that's your excuse. 

Also, Lindsay has been asked about her "birth plan" a few times. For those inquiring minds, yes, she does have a very specific, well thought-out birth plan. Ready?
It's called "EVERYBODY GETS OUT ALIVE."

Happy Fucking New Year!

For the holidays Sara’s tiny little studio apartment played host to seven different people for different amounts of time and various reasons. It was a bit hectic to say the least. Mom and Dad’s house seemed small with seven people, so I’m sure you can imagine how claustrophobic a 500 sq. ft. studio where the only door is to the bathroom can be. At any rate, now I have my apartment back to myself and all of my friends are going back to school or leaving on world adventures…and…*sniff*…I promise I’m not crying it’s just allergies GOSH!

Lindsay and Jesse stayed in Auburn for New Year's Eve (where apparently fireworks are legal in their neighbor hood OR the police don't give a shit - either way it's awesome). They went out to dinner where Lindsay got crazy after a couple non-alcoholic beers. The main reason they stayed in the South End is because they got Lego Batman 2 for their Xbox for Christmas. Seriously, you guys. It's awesome.

For New Year's Eve, Sara and her little entourage (at that point in time Hoff, Connor, Kelly, and Luke) decided to go home to the parentals’ place for a party instead of going out in the city and throwing all of their money away on being cold/crowded/generally immersed in chaos. It was quiet, but there was enough ridiculousness to keep everyone happy and entertained.

Like when Luke tried to light a bottle rocket out of his hands, didn’t let go, and deafened his left ear when it blew the fuck up right next to his goddamn face.

Hang on. I’m still trying to stop laughing about it.

…

Whoo. Okay. I’m back.

So at one point, Connor was helping prepare a party game for later. It’s the one where you put a famous name on your back and other people give you hints until you guess who it is. You know, the one they played in Inglourious Basterds before Michael Fassbender and friends shot the everloving shit out of all the drunken Nazis/themselves? Anyways, Connor was suggesting some other celebrities that could possibly be used in the game.

Connor: George Clooney…Lady Gaga…Olivia Newton John…

Dad: Is Olivia Newton John big in the gay community?*

Hoff: You mean ONJ? If you don’t know ONJ, then you’re a bad gay.

Dad: Really? So she’s big like Cher?

Connor: Oh not at all. No one’s bigger with the gays than Cher.

* All of my dude friends present were gay. This was relevant, Dad wasn’t just randomly speculating.

Later, after I had begun taking notes for this very blog you see in front of you, Natasha (who had stopped by to wish us all a Happy New Year) wrote about her contribution in very curvy handwriting, which Dad then attempted to read…

Natasha: “Natasha would like to be included in the blog but has nothing relevant to say about anything. Narwhal. Bloop. Dr. Who. Angels. Wristwatch. Matt Damon. – That is all.”

Dad: What the hell kind of pornographic shit is this? “Natasha got laid by some big butt…”

At one point Dad was trying to remember the name of a song that was playing…and failing miserably. Mom gave him a confidence boost to help jog his memory:

Mom: You have a memory like a frog’s dick. It’s really good, but REALLY short.

I have no fucking clue what that means. All I know is that someone needs to keep Mom away from frogs.

After the New Year hit and Mom and Dad’s friends went home, we decided to teach them both how to play King’s Cup. We changed a few of the rules (such as 5 fingers. Like hell I’m playing the game where you list all of the ridiculously inappropriate things you’ve done with my parents), but kept the important ones, like making a rule. My rule was that you had to say some form of “fuck” in every sentence. Here’s a sampling of some of the resulting conversations:

Dad: Are you going to pick up a fucking card?

Sara: Hoff, why the fuck are you so fucking ridiculous all of the fucking time?

Hoff: Why are you such a fucking bitch?

Connor: Fuck you bitches.

Mom: I hate all of you.

Sara: Mom you need to fucking say fuck.

Mom: Fine. I hate all of you whores FUCK!

Luke: I can’t fucking handle this shit.

Connor: (whispered in Mom’s ear when a seven was drawn, meaning you need to point your finger to the ceiling and yell “heaven!” before the last person) Put your fucking hand in the fucking air.

Dad: (after flicking his lighter open for no goddamn reason whatsoever) Don’t stop! Believing! Fucking Journey was the SHIT!

Kelly: Happy fucking New Year!

Indeed, Kelly. From the Bowyers to you, happy fucking New Year! May you stick to all of your resolutions and, when that doesn’t work, have a fantastic 2013!

A Very Appley Christmas Eve

On Christmas Eve, we stuffed ourselves with lobster and booze while Lindsay watched everyone drinking their beer/wine longingly. Mom wore a Christmas sweater while Jesse and Dad forgot about the zipper on their pants after about their 2nd trip to pee. They button, they just forget to zip. After dinner, we decided to play a game of Apples to Apples, which is generally not a disappointing game at the Bowyer household. Apples to Apples, for those who may not be familiar with it, is a game where one person draws a card with an adjective on it, and everyone else has to submit a person, place, or thing (Sara: I believe the word you're thinking of is "noun") they think best matches the adjective, and then the person who drew the card decides.

At our house, it's pretty typical for the most offensive card to win. For example, one year the adjective was "boisterous," and the card that won was "Helen Keller." Who played that fantastic card, you ask? Grandma, of course. She's also come up with pairs like "Alfred Hitchcock" for "cuddly" and "Adolf Hitler" for "charming."

Throughout the entire game, after the winning card was picked and everyone had to draw a new card, Dad would say, "Oh! I've got the perfect card!" Or, "I needed this one for the last round!" Basically every single new card he picked up was a "perfect" match for the previous round.
Dad also took to justifying every single card that was submitted as a match for the adjective card, even if it wasn't his card.

Adjective: Old
Two of the submitted cards were "Saturn" and "Flipper."
Dad: Saturn's old!
(It wasn't his card)
Jesse: Flipper. I don't think anyone understood Flipper.

Adjective: Naive
One of the submitted cards was "shark"
Dad: Dude! Sharks are totally naive.
Lindsay: Dad, sharks are prehistoric, highly-skilled killing machines that also happen to be masters of evolution.
Dad: Totally! They're so naive that they just kill indiscriminately. They naively want to kill everything. They're naive in the fact that they think they have to kill anything they see.
(It wasn't his card)
Sara: I say we throw you to the sharks and test out that ridiculous hypothesis.


Adjective: Charistmatic
Dad: Where's the Brock card?
One of the submitted cards was "pond scum"
Dad: Pond scum is SUPER charismatic!
Another card gets picked.
Dad: You should have picked mine!
Lindsay: What was it?
Dad: I don't remember

Adjective: Creative
One of the submitted cards was "Canadians"
Dad: Canadians are super creative! They're the most creative people on Earth!
(Not his card)

At one point, someone submitted the card "nuclear power plants" and Dad picked up the card and said "nuclear power pants...what are those?"

Adjective: Bright
Someone selected "chorus girls"
Lindsay: "Slutty" would work!
Sara (almost high fives Lindsay then stops):...We were chorus girls
Lindsay: I know!
Sara: ...<high fives Lindsay anyways>

Adjective: Annoying
Mom: Where's the Brock card?

Lindsay had brought some cookies from the bakery on the bottom floor of her building where she works for dessert. There were more than enough cookies for everyone, but she had to spend every spare second fighting Mom off because she was sitting next to Lindsay and kept trying to sneak pieces of her cookie instead of, you know, just getting her own.

Lindsay: Mom! Get your own fucking cookie!
Mom: No. Quit being a bitch and just give me like, half.
Lindsay: Fuck off! Get your own cookie and break it in half!
Mom: Is there a bitchy card? Because Lindsay should get that one. Let's hope your baby is more like Jesse.

It's also worth noting that in situations like this, Jesse willingly throws Lindsay under the bus if it means he gets praised or shown favoritism over her.

At the end of the game, everyone began to split up. Sara started texting someone furiously, Dad went to find some war show on TV so he could fall asleep in his chair and then wake up and go "Hey, I'm watching that!" when you try to change the channel, and Jesse and Mom grabbed more booze.

Grandma: Well, I'm going up
(To her house)
Lindsay: What? That's it?
Grandma: Yah. Dinner's over. Game's over. Is someone going to do card tricks? Dance? Sing?
Lindsay: Sara, invite some of your gay boyfriends over and play some Cher so they can sing and dance to entertain Grandma.
Sara: <death glare>