Since I have nothing new to report, I thought I'd share one of my favorite stories...
Dad goes out partying with his friends on a Saturday night. In the morning he has to drive Grandma Hays to church because she doesn't know how to drive. They pull up to a stop sign and they both look over to the ditch where my dad's best friend, Roy's car is abandoned and parked.
Grandma Hays turns to Dad and says: David? Why'd you pee on the door last night?
Dad: What door?
Grandma Hays: My bedroom door.
2 comments:
Does he still party like that? Can he move into MY basement?
He kinda parties like that, except now it's just because he's an alcoholic.
How nice is your basement?
My father has standards.
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