Mark Twain

Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.


Dorothy Parker

Ducking for apples - change one letter and it's the story of my life.


Bertrand Russell

There is much pleasure to be gained from useless knowledge.

Team Bob


2005-06-08 at 1:31 a.m.

These days it's hard to tell whether my dad's wierdness is because of the brain injury or if he's just being his usual batshit insane self.

Last week he called me at around 11 P.M. Now, last time my father called me it was to tell me that he was going in for bypass surgery the next day, so, when he called, I was understandably concerned.

Here's a transcript:

Bobito: Margs, hi.

Me: Uh, dad? Is everything okay?

Bobito: Sure, why wouldn't it be? I'm in a bed that moves, your mom has to get me whatever I want and I have complete control over the remote. I've had it on ESPN for two or three days now and no one has tried to change it to A&E or PBS or shit like that.

Me: Oookay. So, why are you calling me? Not that I mind or anything.

Bobito: Listen, I have a great idea and I need your help.

Me: Dad, I've told you, there's no such thing as a motorized island and even if there really was one, I wouldn't tell mom that I have medical research that shows a clear cardiac benefit from owning one.*

Bobito: No, not that, your mom figured it out. Now listen, I want you to get me some t-shirts made.

Me: T-shirts? You mean you want me to get some printed for you?

Bobito: Yeah. See, everyone at the rehab hospital that worked with me really got into the idea of there being a 'Team Bob'. All my charts said it, when they reported stuff, it was as 'Team Bob' members. Everyone was part of 'Team Bob'.

Me: Team Bob? Huh.

Bobito: Yeah, it was pretty neat. So, I want you to get me t-shirts that say 'Team Bob 2005' on them so I can give them to all my rehab people. Those poor guys deserve something for wiping my ass.

Me: So, as a reward for wiping your ass, you are going to give people t-shirts that say 'Team Bob' on them?

Bobito: Yeah. I think it's neat. Your mother, as usual, is over by the door shaking her head. Hold on, she wants to talk to you.

Momdingo: Don't you dare encourage him, young lady. Tell him it's a stupid idea and let this be the end of it.

Bobito (in the background): Bullshit! It's a neat idea and you know it! You're just jealous because you're not part of Team Bob! Give me back the phone!

Momdingo: You want the phone? Why don't you come over here and get it?

Me: Mom, quit taunting him. Besides, he's had a shitty year. If giving the poor unsuspecting rehab people Team Bob shirts will make him happy, why not do it?

Momdingo: It's the principal of the thing. You know he won't stop at t-shirts. Next thing you know, there will be Team Bob mousepads and coffee mugs and god knows what else.

Bobito (in the background): Coffee mugs? Is that possible?

Momdingo (undecipherable cursing)

Bobito: She just gave me the phone and stormed out of here. What's her problem?

Me: It's the change, Dad.

Bobito: Bullshit. She's probably just mad because she's not a part of Team Bob. Anyway, get me those shirts made, okay?

Me: I'll see what I can do.



* While my dad was on morphine (which, it turns out, he's allergic to), he decided that he was, in fact, on a motorized island, like a landmass/speedboat, and he was actually tooling around the Caribbean having wacky adventures.

I was on the island with him (I guess I was Gilligan to his Skipper) as was a host of other people, such as his law partner, Perry Mason, Salma Hayek and one of his frat brothers from college.

After he got better, he decided it was comedy gold to still pretend he was crazy, hence the whole "tell your mom she needs to buy me a motorized island" thing.


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