#2

This is literally a phone conversation I had with my dad a couple of weeks ago:

**ring-ring**

Me: "What?"

D: [Hurried voice.] "I have a question."

Me: "Yes?..."

D: "I was in an accident at the gym. Some guy backed in to me as I was trying to park. I'm okay. The police are on the way, though. This guy seems really irritated..."

Me: "Okay..."

D: "Oh! Okay. So we're getting our information together. Where is my insurance card?"

Me: [I'm wearing my incredulous, 'Are you f***ing kidding me?' face.]
"...Um. I don't know. In the GLOVE BOX? Where people usually keep it?"

D: "OH!!! Yeah! The glove box! That's right. Okay."

Me: [dumbfounded] "Dad?"

D: "Yeah?"

Me: [Exasperated.] "THINK. Before you call me."

D: [With exuberant tone.] "But I like talking to you!"

Me: [Rolls eyes. Dead pan.] "You're ridiculous."

D: [Hurried voice.] "Okay, I gotta go!"

-click-

Me: [Stares at phone, stunned.]
---

Allow me to explain. It wasn't as if, of all things, I took his insurance card and he was calling me to ask where on this planet I decided to hide it from him. He was literally calling to ask me, "Hey...I know you're not my keeper and you've never seen it ever before, but do you of all people happen to know where in the dark abyss of my crap-store I put my insurance card?"

Just so you're aware of my tone, I wasn't angry or annoyed that he called me. I was just shocked that his brain had so poorly malfunctioned that he actually had to call me to figure out where his card was hiding.

Did I mention that he had decided to go to the gym AFTER midnight, which by that point means his brain capacity is already considerably depleted for the day?
Also, since he was involved in a little fender bender, he's allowed to be a little flustered...

But see...dad's not normal people.
Normal people's brains go,
"Car accident. Must trade insurance. Insurance in wallet/glove box."

Dad's brain apparently went,
"Truck hit my car. Man angry. Must trade insur-
//system error. can not compute."

Seriously?