Baby Cheetahs

The family visited Bob's house today. While there, my brother Drew notices a recently-framed picture on the mantle amongst pictures of family members. As Drew picks it up, he laughs hysterically, "Why do you have a Richmond Times-Dispatch newspaper clipping of baby cheetahs framed on the mantle?" "I thought the cheetahs were cute, so I went out and bought a frame for them." You just can't make this stuff up. In fact, here it is: Cheetah Picture

Neck Problems

Advanced age does not come without its problems. For Bob, it is restricted neck movement. If this were a normal situation, it would be a major nuisance for Bob only because in order to see anything in his periphery, his entire body needs to turn and face it. Of course, if you know anything by this point, you know that this is not a normal situation. My brother Drew told me that while eating with him at Chick-Fila, a 30-something-year-old catches Bob’s eye at a nearby table (with her children). Since the occasional glance is impossible, Bob ‘subtly’ turns his entire body in a position where he could stare at her from about 8-10 feet away as long as he wanted and still eat his sandwich. As expected, she notices along with a handful of other patrons. Mortified, Drew urges him, “Stop staring.” Bob, without breaking his gaze, but very audibly, “I’m not staring.” “I’m facing the side of your body, you are staring!” “How old do you think she is?” “I’m leaving.”

Honky Tonk

Some people my age spend their weekend nights on the town. Me? I’m at Bob’s house. Here’s why: The closest we have ever come to full-out party mode was for about 4 minutes tonight. Bob flips the TV to the Country Music Channel where they are playing recent music videos. So there we are. Me with my pretzel goldfish on the couch, and he with his bag of chips that has been in the house longer than US troops have been in Afghanistan. Together we listen to Trace Atkins’ hit single “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk” on volume 92, as the television gyrates on the wall. The lucidity of the big-screen periodically lighting up my grimacing face in the dark room. And you know what? I’m still enjoying it more than most clubs.

Packed Schedule

I get in to Bob's at 4:20 in the afternoon on Wednesday. He is sleeping on the coach, but wakes up when I open the door. "What did you do today?" Bob sheepishly chuckles, knowing it is just wrong: "I... ate breakfast, and then I folded my clothes. Two things." He senses my silent judgement, "I'm retired!" "You're a notch above comatose is what you are." "And now I'm having a conversation with you. Three things."

The Bob Plant

Two years ago when I was initially living with Bob, the potted plant life in his house was wholly neglected, but not desperate. In 2013, it has skipped desperation and gone to terrifying. Case and point: the Bob Plant (pictured below). Pushing forth green and yellow limbs in a hellish display of raw existence, the Bob Plant has found a way to survive without water for 5 years (2008 was my grandmothers' passing). Unless the Midlothian Fire Dept. intervenes, the Bob Plant could become a real problem in the Salisbury community. We can speculate all we want; I do know the Bob Plant is as visibly angry as it is thirsty, and I am scared.

In-Family Racism

So, I moved back in with Bob today after two years of being away. One of the first things I noticed upon entering the house was his refrigerator. There were two baby pictures in particular that caught my attention. I asked him why he had them up. He replied, "I like those baby pictures of Mia." The only problem: they are not baby pictures of his 11 year old adopted granddaughter and my sister. They are pictures of a random baby of Asian heritage. Nothing like a little in-family racism to get the summer started right.

Time Out

Sometimes, Bob "times out." What I mean is when there is no sensory stimulation for about 5 minutes or so, he goes into a quasi-hibernation mode like C3P-O from Star Wars. I liken it more closely to a box-shaped computer monitor from the 90's. To go along with that, I think that in his mind, Bob is flying by stars like those screensavers.

Jenga

A while ago, my brothers, my grandmother, and I were playing Jenga in Bob's kitchen while he was reading the newspaper. As Jenga usually goes, several minutes of silence were broken, by the toppling of wooden bricks on the table and the linoleum floor. Amidst this sudden chaos and our laughing, Bob stands up, slams his paper down, and shouts, "Oh S%*#!" After a moment of Bob staring at the table, he sheepishly returns to his seat with a smirk, "I thought the chandelier fell down." We laugh harder. I have never heard Bob cuss, before or since.

Strawberries

Bob has always had esophageal problems, but recently, his acid re-flux has spiked in its severity. It is a serious problem, but his response in addressing it is classic. "Gray, I have thought hard about my acid re-flux, and it can only be caused by one thing." "What's that?" "Strawberries. Every time I eat strawberries, it gets really bad." The man, whose staple diet is Denny's, Chick Fil A, Burger King, and Christadelphian potlucks, insists that strawberries have to go.

Shrimp Bowl

About 10 years ago, Bob and my grandmother were over for a super bowl party at our house. Bob proceeded to eat all of the shrimp he brought caked with globs of cocktail sauce. Predictably, this culminated in a reflux disaster. "I think you got some on the furniture!" "No, didn't!" Bob insisted as he ascended to go to the bathroom. An ever-extending, orange trail of saliva extending from his khakied butt to our brand-new couch would confirm otherwise.

Hannibal

Bob and I were sitting in the family room watching "Mayberry" (The Andy Griffith Show), when all of a sudden I found myself in this conversation:

Bob: "Who was Hannibal Lecter?"
Gray: "A cannibal"
Bob: "I know he was Hannibal."
Gray: "No, a cannibal. Hannibal Lecter was a cannibal."
(a short pause)
Bob: "Hannibal was a cannibal." (longer pause) "And wasn't he from Spain?"
Gray: (turning my head) "What???"
Bob: "You know...He was the guy who had the elephants."
Gray: "What are you even saying?" "Oh wait...You're talking about the Phoenician general Hannibal from Roman times. Hannibal Lecter is completely different from him."
Bob: "Oh OK. Yeah, that Hannibal." "Hannibal the cannibal."
Gray: (hand to face)

Context:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hannibal

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hannibal_Lecter

Rude Boy III

Before I leave for the gym, I go downstairs to get breakfast. A repairman is working on the washing machine in the kitchen. Bob's phone goes off blaring Rihanna's "Rude Boy". A bewildered repairman asks, "Is that yours?" "Nope, my grandfather is a big fan. He has had that ringtone for several months now."

Early Bird

A barechested Bob woke me up at 7:15 AM. Church would not commence for another two hours, but there was an urgent need for me to button his Sunday shirt. I did, without complaining. At 7:25, he reentered the room. "I need you to do my cuffs too." I did, with clearly visible, yet undetected, consternation. At 7:30, a loud 'BEEP' forces my eyes open again, "What are you doing!?" Bob, awkwardly bent over the voicemail machine located just inside my bedroom door, replies, "Checking my messages." "It's 7:30 in the morning! Why are you doing all these things?" "Oh!" came his surprised response, and he left the room. As soon as my head hit the pillow, a timid knock breaks the short silence. "WHAT!?" An 80-year-old head peeps out from behind the door, "I misread the clock---" "OK. OK. That's fine. I know." "I thought it said 8:30 instead of 7:30."

Tuna

"Tuna makes me burp, burp, burp." Bob said as he sat back in his chair at the kitchen table. I take a look at the empty tuna can,"Its probably not tuna in general that makes you burp as much as it is 22 year old canned fish meat. This tuna is from '89."

Interesting Perspectives:

Some species of tuna only live 6-7 years.

Even though it expired in '89, the can of tuna itself probably predated my birth (1986).

Bob's lunch, in effect, predated the conception of the modern nation of Russia (est. 1991), the fall of the Berlin wall (Nov. 1989)

Poison's "Every Rose has Its Thorn" was #1 on the billboard charts.

The Essence of Bob

Lazy

I enter the house to find Bob sitting in his recliner watching TV. As I take a seat on the couch, he tells me, "While I was sitting here earlier, I spilled half a bowl of cereal in my lap and down my leg, bran flakes, milk, and all." "That stinks. Did you wash yourself off?" "Well, I ate the bran flakes and I'm dry now, so..." He shrugs.

Sugarmomma

While watching TV, Bob and I see a commercial with Betty White. "Would you go on a date with her, Bob?" "Yeah," came the thought-out reply, "because she would spend all her money on me." "Use her for her money? She's your sugarmomma." I say. Bob thought on that for a little while, "You're living with me, so I'm your sugarmomma." I could scarcely react to this awkward statement, "First, you have NO idea what you're saying. Second, its sugardaddy." "Oh OK, I'm your sugardaddy." "Stop."

Glasses

Bob is in the bathroom and I can hear him saying, "Oh gosh, oh wonderful, oh me." "What's the problem?" I call out. "I dropped my glasses and their case in the toilet." "Did you already pee???" "Yeah," comes the forced reply.   After a few seconds, Bob enters the living room. Wide-eyed I say, "I really hope you washed those off." "Yeah, but I had to fish them out with my hand." I partially tuned out his response; I was more focused on the wet spot forming around his shirt pocket.

Orange Bowl

Watching Orange Bowl, Bob is explaining something to me. I cant hear him because I am not listening, but also because the TV is on volume 89. For about 5 minutes, I was nodding my head and inserting "yeah" here and there, then I gave up. Is he talking about the game? His day? I don't know... He ended his story with a good laugh. I gave a response chuckle, which prompted him to bellow an hardier laugh with one snort.

Keystone

While we are eating dinner in Denny's, Bob whispers, "What's our waitress' name?" "Keisha, I think." Bob leans in, "Keystone???" "No, KEISHA." About 5 minutes later, Keisha approaches our table and asks Bob if he would like more water. Bob replies, "That would be great, Keystone." Smiling, I bury my face in my hands until she walks away. "No one would name their kid 'Keystone'... KEISHA!"

Homecoming

My brothers, Bob, and I attended the homecoming football game this past Friday. In spite of his renowned severe case of acid reflux, Bob thought it prudent to scarf down a barbaque sandwich at half time. At the beginning of the fourth quarter, Bob tells me, "I threw up three times on the track." I look up to see th...ree pools of shimmering orange on the track surrounding the field. "I don't know you."

The Gump

While watching the 80's movie "Big", Bob leaps about half-way out of his chair exclaiming, "That is the Gump! That is the guy on the Gump!!!" Without even turning my head, I ask "What is the Gump?" knowing he has no idea what is talking about. "The Gump!" he says again pointing at the screen. Ah, now I see. "Yes, Bob, Tom Hanks is the Gump." I smile as Bob reclines again, basking in the pride of identifying a pop culture icon.

Toenails

Bob gave me $10 to cut his toenails. 9 of his 10 nails are corn kernal yellow. The big toenails are about 3x thicker/longer than the average man's. Accumulated dead skin under each nail compounded my clipping difficulties. It was the nails' texture that finally convinced me that it was a bad deal. Each surface was characterized by crevices, ridges, and gorges that would be a topographer's worst nightmare. I only gagged twice.

Potato Chips

When Bob eats potato chips, he takes a handful out of the bag and stuffs them in his mouth all at once. This did not bother me until I began to notice that he would lick his entire index finger before putting his hand back into the bag. I decided I needed to say something to him when potato chips were sticking to my fi...ngers after I packed my lunch for work. Apparently, empty calories are the least of my worries.

Roller Coaster

Yesterday Bob, who turns 80 in September, decided that he was going to go to Kings Dominion and ride the rollercoasters. He was especially excited to ride the new Intimidator305. Here is the description of this rollercoaster. It is he tallest and fastest roller coaster of its type on the East Coast. It is only the second giga-coaster ever built in North America. It is 305 feet tall or roughly the size of a 30 story building. It descends 300 feet at an 85 degree-angle at speeds in excess of 90 miles per hour.

Now, no amount of talk from me could convince him that this probably wasn't the best idea in the world. In fact, he told me "I bet lots of 90 years olds have ridden it." Yeah, right. Tons, I'm sure.

Anyway, he gets there and decides to ride the Volcano as a warm-up...his first ride upon entering the park. He terms this a "middle of the road" rollercoaster. The Volcano goes from about 0 to 70 in 2 seconds. He decides, despite the warnings of the park personnel to put your head against the head rest, to lean forward and close his eyes. When this thing takes off, his head shoots back like he has been hit from behind by a tractor trailer smashing his head into the head rest. This coaster catapults straight up and starts doing loopty-loops. Bob says "I really thought I was going to die."

Long story short, the great rollercoaster experiment ends with a bad case of vertigo, a bad headache and a case of whiplash, but no Intimidator305. Makes me wonder how so many 90 year olds are riding this thing.

Honey

Most Thursday nights, Bob takes me to KFC. On one particular outing, he instructed me to go to the register and get him some honey packets. I should have refused, but I didn't know he would spend the remainder of the meal poking holes in the packets with his fork and sucking all the honey out of them into his mouth. For "dessert", he ingested about ten of those packets. Bob the bumble bee.

Rude Boy II

Bob's new ringtone rang for the first time in a public setting last night. The song Rude Boy blared at highest volume in his Tuesday night bible class. To my surprise and amusement, he is keeping the ringtone. I am positive he is unaware of the song's connotations. So, whenever you hear the voice of Rihanna blasting out inappropriate lyrics, think of Bob. It might not hurt to took for him too.

Rude Boy

Bob has a cell phone. Well, sort of. He leaves it in the charger all day and has never taken it anywhere. He uses the eraser-side of an orange pencil to push the buttons because his fingers can't. He "doesn't know how" to receive calls; he only uses it for outgoing calls. So, I suppose I shouldn't feel too guilty for secretly purchasing Rihanna's "Rude Boy" to be his default ringtone. Don't tell him.

Pizza

The other night and Bob informs me that he made his own pepperoni pizza for dinner. "There was only one problem with the pizza," he said, "I forgot to put on the cheese." I reply, "Maybe I'm old fashioned, but it really isn't a pizza without cheese." "It didn't really taste like pizza should taste." Pizza is complicated...no it's not.

Ballin

Yesterday, Bob and I were playing "basketball" at the YMCA. Most of the time, Bob pulled out his best imitation of Jerry West by attempting hook and granny shots that would normally fall about five feet short of the hoop. However, I will always remember him trying to dribble, pulling up, and swishing a 3 pointer from d...owntown. He gives me a sheepish grin upon seeing my stunned face. Bob be ballin.

Solar Powered

While cleaning in the kitchen, Bob turned to me, pulled out an old Texas Instuments calculator, and bragged, "I have had this calculator for the past 40 years and it still works." "Great," I said without looking up. I then glanced over and saw him place the calculator in the middle of a sunbeam on a window sill. Knowing what he was doing, I asked, "Why are you putting that there?" "You see this little thing here? It's solar powered; it needs the sun." "It doesn't need the sun."

Thunderstorm

 I woke up to the sound of my bedroom door opening. At 5:06 AM, in peers the scantily-clad silhouette of Bob. "What do you want?", I ask. "There's a thunderstorm outside," he replies. With that, he closes my door and goes back to his room. All of a sudden, the storm that could not wake me before prohibits my returning to sleep now. However, thanks to the maroon-robed wonder, I'm now aware there is a storm outside.

Mneumonic

Bob's version of the following mnemonic: "Thirty days have September, April, June, and November. All the rest have thirty-one... but February... rides a bike and eats peanut butter." Just a friendly reminder to all of us to quit while we're ahead.

Diet

Last night, Bob looked at me and proclaimed, "I am going to eat healthier." With that, he took a handful of extra frozen fruit and poured it on top of his cereal mountain which he was preparing for the following morning. It took a little longer than I thought, but 30 minutes later, he proceeded to ask, "When would you like to go to CiCi's?" I buried my face in my hands and replied, "We aren't going to CiCi's again."

Old Food

Today, I went in the fridge to find some mustard for my sandwich. I just happened to check the expiration date which said 9-12-1996. I informed Bob that his mustard dated back to Bill Clinton's first term in office, and he scoffed, "Oh, those expiration dates are big scams to get you to buy more food." Or to keep you alive.

Ice Cream

The other night, Bob took out a newly bought half gallon of PET butter pecan ice cream. I went upstairs to do some homework for a little while. By the time I get back down, I notice an empty ice cream carton in the recycling. I go into the living room to confirm my suspicions. He sheepishly replies, "I took a couple bites, and before I knew it, it was gone." By that point, I was more impressed than anything else.

Santa Baby

Bob's taste in music is about as narrow as possible. Since I have lived in his house, Bob has popped only one CD in the CD player. It has ten tracks; all ten are Madonna's version of "Santa Baby". He will sit in his recliner and listen to the CD play all the way through. So, which is more strange? Bob listening to Christmas music in March? Or Bob listening to Madonna? How about both at the same time.

The Movies

 I ask Bob whether he might want to go to the movie theatre at some point. He gives me a funny look and replies, "I haven't been there in a while." "What did you see last time you went?" He pauses for a minute while trying to remember, "I think it was E.T."

Corn Spider

When Bob was making his cereal last night, he noticed a stray corn flake lying on the stove. He picked it up and was about to put it in his mouth when he stopped to examine it a little closer. It was then that he realized that it was not a corn flake at all. It was a dead spider. He told me all of this earlier this morning with another warning not relay the story to the Facebook community. "Bob, I have to."

Cereal

Every morning without fail, Bob has cereal. He uses the same bowl and spoon every day. The spoon is the size of a child's sandbox shovel and has been worn down to a metallic brown. The bowl is olive green and the size of a World War II army helmet. His cereal consists of powdered milk, bran, granola, freeze dried strawberries, raisins, and almonds (filled up to the brim). It takes about 40 minutes for him consume.

Graypo

Over the past couple weeks, Bob has developed a nickname for me. Whenever I walk in the house or enter a room, he says "Hey there, Graypo". I don't know why. I am pretty sure that it does not mean anything. I think he just decided to add "po" to the end of my name. It only bothers me a little bit, so I'll let it continue. If he ever calls me Graypo within 30 minutes of my waking up, the nicknaming will end abruptly.

Gingerbread

While we are watching TV, Bob turns to me, furrows his brow, and asks, "What is that cookie that is shaped like a man?" Taken back by the unexpected question, I take a minute to respond: "That would be a gingerbread man". "Oh that's right..... don't you go posting that on facebook." "Don't worry, Bob, I won't."

Brushing Teeth

Last night, I was watching the Crime Investigation channel with Bob. All of a sudden, he starts violently shaking from head to toe. Startled, I look over to see him sitting in his recliner brushing his teeth. I ask him what in world he's doing, and he simply replies that he is saving time by brushing his teeth while watching TV. We blankly stare at each other for a few seconds, and then he resumes his dental seizure.

Alarm Clock

When Bob sets his alarm for the next morning, it ends up going off at 11 PM, not AM. Every night. He is downstairs watching TV right now and can't hear it. I am in bed and can hear it loud and clear. Right now, I can't muster the energy to get out of bed and turn it off. At least it is blaring Aerosmith.

Underwear

Grandpa Bob enters my room while I am trying to sleep, flips on the light, and asks where I keep my underwear. I tell him I am sleeping. He goes over to my dresser and starts going through my boxers trying to find out what size my underwear is. I tell him to leave. He insists on finding out so he can buy me some more underwear. I can get my own. Getttttt outtttt..