Mine is: I left the car window open overnight, and it rained. The next morning, the driver’s seat was wet, and my wife refused to drive anywhere until it was dry. Compressing it (ie sitting on it) always forced more liquid out than rubbing the surface with a towel did, so I said to her “OK, I will drive you there. Just call me Squarebob Spongepants”.
My dad used to tell all the poor employees at Target (and also EVERYONE ELSE. EVERYONE.) about the fancy French boutique “Tar-zhay.”
And every single time he’d get a haircut, someone would say, “Did you get a haircut?” and he’d say, “I got a bunch of them cut!”.
He’d always go on about how a female pope would be a “mome” and how instead of mammaries he had daddaries. He got a book of unusual words once and loved the ones that sounded crude but weren’t. Like once a week, he’d catch one of us in the mirror getting ready for something and be like, “Are you FARDING? You know what FARDING means, right?” or go on about how the people at the baseball game were “FORMICATING. They were FORMICATING everywhere! Do you know what FORMICATING means?”
eta: wait, are these supposed to be dad jokes that I told? Or my contribution of my dad’s dad jokes? I think I may have misread. But I’ll leave my dad’s dad jokes anyway.
(“How are you,” “How’s it going,” etc.): “Just another day in paradise! …Somewhere.”
(“Did you get a haircut?”) “Nope…got 'em all cut!”
“I have a really really good memory…it’s just really short.”
(Okay, these really belong to my husband, but he’s Dad to the kids, so it still counts. And, despite my long-suffering eyerolls and, “Still funny, dear.”* I’m gonna miss his cheesy jokes like hell when he’s gone.)
*Which is now so old and overused that it itself qualifies for a, “Still funny, dear.”
One of my proudest moments as a dad was in the car with my teenage stepson. I said “Hey!” and pointed out the window. It took him several seconds to realize that I was pointing at a bale of hay. That was back when he was young enough to be willing to find something I said funny.
Every time we drove through the country and saw hay that was recently cut and rolled up, my dad would point to it and say that the farmers don’t like it that way anymore because their cows don’t get a square meal. I am now proudly telling that to my kids every time we drive through the country now.