food

(At a holiday gathering, a cheese plate is set out.) Dad: Hey, honey, come here. Try this cheese. Me: I don't really like blue cheese. Dad: No, no, just try it. Me: (Trying the cheese, disgusted.) Blugh, it tastes really weird. I don't like it. Dad (pulls me aside): Your uncles and I all agree that that cheese tastes like our wives.

(My dad and I were having a post-Thanksgiving dinner farting contest. It was getting progressively worse and worse and thus funnier and funnier until he pauses and makes a weird face.) Me: What's wrong, Dad? Dad: ... I don't trust this one. Me: ... Trust what, the fart? Dad: Aye. I think it might be a shart in disguise.

Me (7 Year old): Mom, what if aliens landed in the back yard, ate all our food, and left? Dad: Sounds like our relatives. Mom: (Glares at dad)

Little Sister: Dad, you're putting butter in a cup! Who does that?! Me: Cool people. And dad. Dad: Just when I thought you were smart, you had to say something like that to prove how unsmart you is! Me: I'm not the one who said "unsmart."