The end.

Well, he's gone. We had a nice drive to St. Louis. 

While listening to Paul Simon, he turned it up and said, "This almost makes me wish I had rhythm." We also listened to a Mitch Hedberg stand-up CD. He enjoyed that as well. 

Driving past a bus stop on Western Ave...

Dad: She must be a detective.

Me: That one in the leather jacket?

Dad: Yeah. She's wearing heels. All the female detectives on TV wear heels.  

When we got to St. Louis, we went to O'Connell's to eat. I have to say this way the perfect ending to our 10  months together. Sitting in a big wooden booth at my favorite bar in  St. Louis, drinking beer and eating burgers with my dad.

Now, I think I may have to start a blog about all the crazy shit my mom says to me on the phone. She had a great line this weekend. 

Leaving.

Me: Hey, Dad. Are you excited for our road trip?
Dad: (sigh) Have you ever really seen me excited?

Yikes!

Last night I was in the kitchen making dinner. Joe was on his way over. Dad comes in the kitchen, scares the shit out of me, and then sits down to talk about this Paul Simon/Steve Martin audio clip I sent him earlier in the day.

Joe shows up and walks in the kitchen. 

Dad: Hi, Joe. (pause) You know, I've known her (me) a lot longer than you. In fact, I bet I've seen her naked more than you have.

Laptop.

Huey knocked over my Macbook this morning. The screen is fucked. I told Dad about this...

Dad: I think that would make me despondent for about 20 minutes.

It's official.

I'm renting a car and moving my dad home to St. Louis on Friday. So, I guess I'll try to get what I can out of him this week. 

Yogurt.

While watching a commercial for Activia.

Dad: What is yogurt? A milk product?

Sad.

I'm a little sad. 

Dad is thinking about moving in with my sister in St. Louis.

Gay.

We were talking about a woman who didn't age so gracefully.

Dad: I'd hit on me before I'd hit on her.

Me: I think that would make you gay.

Mustache.

Dad: I shaved my mustache once. (pause) About 30 years ago. (pause) I think I was in high school.  (long pause) Or maybe it was 7th grade.

Another.

Me: Do you need a beer, Dad?
Dad: No. It's a want.