Bobisms - Volume One - Yeehaw Therapy!

I was raised by a Bob. Lately more than ever, I’ve come to appreciate our relationship. I have a dad that still calls me sunshine every time we talk, takes me to the airport at the crack of dawn (and doesn’t get mad when I realize I’ve had him take me to DFW when I should be at LUV), and makes me laugh through anything.

Now that the, “I have a great dad” speech is over. We can get to the good stuff. The fun stuff. The crazy stories that I’m almost positive NO OTHER person has ever experienced. These are the Bob-isms I will never forget.

Sit back, strap on your sense of humor, and enjoy!

Yeehaw therapy…

You heard me right. That’s the name of it. Yes, I’m from Texas. But Dallas (the city) is not the TV show. I don’t have horses or cows. I don’t live on or near anything like Southfork Ranch and I wouldn’t know the first thing about farm life. Also, yeehaw and y’all are NOT a part of normal vocabulary ‘round these parts. UNLESS you were raised by Bob.

Bob Disclaimer: I NEVER tell the story right according to my dad. How two people so similar can look at the same story and walk away with entirely different perspectives, I will never understand. BUT, whatever you read about my dad here…take it as one sided as it comes. It’s my perspective. I’m a GREAT story teller and I’ve never let the truth get in the way of a good story (one of my new favorite quotes).

So, when I hit my pre-teen/early teen years, I was a little…ummm, difficult. My parents divorced when I was 11 and I decided being an asshat was my God given right. Plus, we’re all awkward and pissed off at that age, aren’t we? No? Okay just me.

My dad and I debated A LOT during this “pleasant” time. I didn’t seem to comprehend the “as long as you live under my roof you’ll live by my rules” speech. So when he’d pull out that little gem, I’d pout. Arms crossed, I’m not eating, I’m just going to be miserable pout. My dad doesn’t do miserable. EVER. The man would sing to you at 6am with a Bob sandwich (everything is a Bob “something”) in hand. So, bitchyness attitude was not an option. Any parent can tell you to snap out of it. Tell you to stop acting like a witch or ground you. My dad? NOT SO MUCH.

He has this theory that NO ONE can be mad if they scream “Yeehaw from the depths of their soul”. Direct quote. So after we’d talk out the issue and I told him I was fine (he MADE me talk until I caved, it didn’t matter if it took until 4am), I had to step out on the front porch and let out a deep soul shaking Yeehaw. As you can imagine, for a teenager IN the awkward stage, this was MORTIFYING. I did all I could to stay quiet. The less awkward I tried to make this, the LOUDER he would yell. He had to show me how it was done (AND embarrass the holy hell out of me). Until I would finally give up and yell at the top of my lungs while everyone and their dog rolled over laughing at me. The worst part? He was right. You can NOT go through something like that without laughing. You stop caring what anyone thinks and you get over yourself.

So when people can’t figure out how I laugh so many things off, how I keep a bright attitude when it doesn’t make any sense, or how I can make a COMPLETE fool of myself and not care… THIS is how. How do you EVER take life too seriously with a dad like that around?

YEEEEEHAAAAAW!!!