The khaki one's connected to the....yellow one?

I often take to this blog to mock my Father--for whom I have great respect and admiration, mind you. He's just an easy target.

So imagine my gleeful delight when, on my last trip home, I found this little gem adhered to the dresser in what is now the guest room & formerly Kyle's room where he was fondly known to wipe his boogers on the wall as a youth. (Dad isn't my only target, people.)

Otherwise known as blog fodder GOLD, this is a real life "how to get dressed and match your clothes together" cheat sheet handwritten by my Mother for my 59 year old Father. I assure you this is all very real and I'm not making a minute of it up. My life practically writes itself.

My personal favorite is that between the two of them, they lovingly refer to it as his "Grammi-mals" sheet. Get it? Like Garanimals + Grammi (my Mom's Grandma name)? It's like they don't even need me for this stuff anymore.

The Grammi-mals paper literally lists all of his dress pants by color and the corresponding shade of shirts AND tie patterns that can and cannot be worn with each pant. If memory serves it also lists proper footwear and belt color, as well. I...I...I...I don't even know where else to go with this.

It is my new favorite of all time, and I have asked that it be willed to me upon their passing. Honestly, it's all I want.

Sledding fun!

This weekend we had a little winter fun with Grammi, Poppi and Uncle Kyle.

In related news, I was almost beheaded by a fence, Mom has a bruise on her hip that looks like the state of Texas, and Uncle Kyle had to visit the chiropractor yesterday. We're a mess.

And also? Poppi is a sex machine in his Carharts and subtle orange hat. The safety glasses clearly complete the look.

See also: I'm officially out of the will.

I don't even know what to title this post.

Joe and I had an unexpected week off last week, so we laid low and did a whole bunch of nothing. Well, if nothing equates to a spontaneous trip to Chicago, late-night ice cream runs with friends, cider mills and lots of home organizing. Like I said, nothing.

Anyway, in the interest of being too lazy to blog about my week, I'd like to share the following video which was created by my cousin, Jeremy. You don't really need much backstory to understand it, except that my Dad (Greg) and his brothers like to light shit on fire. A lot. And they also like beer. A lot.

Best email, ever.

From: My Dad
Sent: Monday, January 23, 2012 11:14 AM
To: The whole family

You know you're having a bad day when you order a small coffee from McDonalds and when you go to pay, the worker at the window says, "Oh, you qualify for the cheaper, Senior Citizen coffee!"  I'm just saying...

____________________

And then I peed my pants. Obviously.

At the tone, the time will be...

Remember the time lady? Ha. I was totally reminiscing about her the other day. My Dad was super obsessive about the clocks in our house when I was little--ensuring that each one was set to the actual, real time. He was super specific. Like an astronaut, only without the bubble head. So I have many a fond memory of my Dad telling us to call 894-1212 to get the exact time and repeat it to him. Verbatim. Live. To the nanosecond.

"Good evening. At the tone, the time will be 6:24, and forty seconds. Beeeeeeeep." Click click.

"Good evening. At the tone, the time will be 6:24, and fifty seconds. Beeeeeeeep." Click click.

"Good evening. At the tone, the time will be 6:25, exactly. Beeeeeeeep."

Obviously, I did it with a British accent, ensuring it was as ridiculous as possible for my flawless reenactment to Joe. I also made my Dad sound like Father Time himself. On purpose. But that's neither here nor there, because Joey actually ratted me out to my Dad. Via email!

____________________________________

From: Joey
Subject: Sticking up (read: kissing ass) for my father-in-law
 
Quite recently your daughter made fun of you for making her call the official time lady so you could set all of the clocks in your house to the correct time. She said it was a funny childhood memory and thought you were a bit obsessive for doing it. I said it was brilliant! If it were not for the cable box and our cell phones letting us know what the time was, I would make Alex call the time lady also.
 
From: Dad
Subject: RE: Sticking up (read: attempting to be funny) for my father-in-law (son-in-law)
 
Thank you Joe--at least somebody sticks up for me! It was brilliant and the only accurate time we had available. Now we have atomic clocks, cellphones, mandroids and blueberries--but not back in the day! Nowadays, and if Kristi were still living at home, I would have her log onto her cellular device and tell me the time. And if it were 2000 years ago, I'd have her go out and look at the sundial! I'm just sayin'.

____________________________________

Now, there are at least 4 lessons to be learned from the above conversation: 1) Never trust a husband. Especially when brownie points with the FIL are involved. 2) If I were still living at home, I would not have to log into any cellular device, because I would actually have already killed myself for living at home at the ripe old age of 28. 3) I do not actually know how to read a sundial, because they are ridiculous. And 3) My Dad said "mandroids" and "blueberries." DYING.
 

Joey? I'm onto you and your little games. And Dad? Mandroids...seriously?! I die.

When Football Takes Over Your Life, Part 2.

This was my Dad's response to Joey's Fantasy Football email.
________________________________________________

Dear Joseph,

I can only think of one response and that is...upstairs in HD or downstairs on the big screen?

Please let me know at your earliest convenience so the proper arrangements and staffing can be made. We are booked quite heavily that weekend, but I"m sure we can accommodate your special request.

Sincerely,
Your Staffing Specialist

P.S. - Should you require any other special assistance, please do not hesitate to call us at 1-800-FOOTBALLFANTASYWEEKENDATTHETALICSKA'S. If you can't get through on the 1st dial, please keep trying...someone will be with you shortly.
________________________________________________

I love my family.

The Cute Never Ends.

We visited the Zoo with Grammi and Poppi last weekend...it was perfect weather (unlike the last time when it was friggin' as hot as the sun) and we had a blast. But don't take my word for it, see for yourself:

Grammi showing Alex the birdies.

Riding a lion.

He was growling when I took this one. Hilarious.

At the hippo exhibit. 

Playing in the stream...which may or may not

have been temporarily closed. My bad.

Poppi with his people.

If I were still 12, odds are good I would

get grounded for posting this.

There's nothing cuter than grandparents pulling a wagon.

Have I mentioned they were high school
sweethearts? I know, adorbs.

I need to find a contest to enter this one into.

It's like my most favoritest picture, ev-ah.

See the creepy fish? Look closer...

Alex the eagle and Joe the ostrich.

Thanks for the fun day, Grammi & Poppi!

Poppi: The Awake Version.

I received a vewwy interesting phone call from my Dad yesterday. It seemed his course of action was to file a formal complaint with the PR folks 'round here regarding the manner in which he's been portrayed on this little bliggity blog.

Apparently, he's sleeping in every picture I've ever posted. Here's his formal rebuttal:

And you wonder where I get my writing skills?

Upon looking back through the archives, it would appear he is correct. So, in an effort to remedy the situation and prove to you all that my Dad, in fact, spends most of his days as an awake, alive and functioning member of society, I give you this:

Dad and Gramps chillin' at a Loons game. AWAKE.

Dad and Kyle at a Tigers game. Also AWAKE.

With yours truly at my wedding. AWAKE and dancing!

Attempting a racing victory @ Alex's first birthday party.

Notably, AWAKE and driving.
Kelli pictured at left attempting to save Alex's little life.

With my Mom, somewhere. I wish I had his blue eyes...

which are AWAKE in this picture.

Again, with the Momma. And AWAKE.

And lookin' fine, if I do say so mah-self.

So there you have it. My Dad does not sleep all the time. And when he does? He snores. Probably wasn't authorized to tell you that. I should buckle up for another phone call, I suppose.

Oh, and for what it's worth, his middle name isn't really "Dentist." It's Dennis. For most of my childhood (read: until I was 14) I honestly thought it was Dentist, and will never live it down.