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..