Tucked away inside my dad's salt-and-peppered noggin is a veritable wealth of knowledge- but, really, only the kind of nonsense needed for JEOPARDY! and ridiculously obscure trivia games.
Here are some of the diamonds that he has bestowed upon this world, and other funny gems that make it out of his mouth:
+ My dad tells me he wants to change the antenna on his car (the reception is awful). when he turns, looks at me, and asks:
Dad: "Do you know how radio antennas work?"
Me: "Vaguely." (that sound pretty 'modern jackass'-y, I know, but I recently read an article about how a certain amount of copper is needed for an antenna to work and how it's coiled up in that shark-fin shape for cars nowadays to accommodate the size. I know, I know: "shuuuut up, jackass".)
Dad: "It's a pieces of copper that's coiled around blahablahablahablah. FM blahahah... Do you know what 'FM' stands for? Yah, that's right 'frequency modulation.' What about 'AM'? Do you know what 'AM' stands for?..."
Twenty minutes later: I'm left dazed and confused and less informed than when I started the conversation.
+"Kaya, can I see your laptop? You should defragment the hard drive every so often to free up space." Twenty minutes later, a fear-inducing blue screen pops up, my computer crashes, and it's slower than ever before.
+We're driving back to the house and there's a gap of silence when he asks:
My dad: "Do you think you could learn how to drive a motorcycle?"
Me: "I guess. Yeah, sure, if someone taught me I could learn."
Dad: "The only thing that would hard would be driving on pavement then having to drive on dirt."
Me: "Okay. Yah, sure... because of the change in surface and..."
Dad: "(slightly talking over me) You'd have to turn the handle to compensate the change because the dirt is so loose. I'd never drive a motorcycle on gravel... I was thinking of getting a motorcycle."
Me: "Really? Do it."
+ My younger cousins/any impressionable little kids he meets when he travels: "What's that? (they point to a 2" wide keloid in the middle of his chest)?"
Dad: "I was shot in the chest."
Baby kids: "REALLY? No, you weren't!"
Dad: "Yeah, I was."
My cousins/little kids would turn and look at either me or my sister, scared and amazed, and we'd shake our heads and mouth-out, "Noooo," while my dad, smirking, nods his head, insisting he was shot in the chest. (And nooo, he wasn't, he just likes scaring little kiddies).
+ When Jaya and I were in highschool, the three of us loved watching Roswell and Firefly. Then a few of months ago (and just a couple of weeks ago, actually):
Dad:"Hey, you know who was playing golf ahead of me? That guy from Roswell! Brendan Fehr! He's a pretty decent golfer."
Me: "Did you scream out 'ROSWELL!'? I hope you screamed out 'ROSWELL!'"
Dad: "No, but maybe I'll get to play him soon...."