Happy Fathers Day to the man who could never see this because homeboy has no idea how turn on a computer let alone find the Internet Explorer, and type this into the address bar (although he apparently told my mom recently he wants to learn how to use the computer). But thats ok.
Here’s to the man that brought us the yellow shirt. Then the purple shirt. And now he’s rocking some kinda blue thing. He also wears shorts, at all times that it is socially acceptable (meaning my mother and I let him, because you have to draw the line in the winter, even then he still wears them at home at all times).
He’s also the guy that curses like a sailor at every other driver on the road and makes every car ride like your own personal death trap. In two different languages…. true fact, the first Italian I learned was all the swear words.
He tells sick and twisted jokes that I love and shoots one liners like you wouldn’t believe. He is known to make me laugh like no other with a stupid joke like “khaki’s” or the “3 legged dog”
We share a lot of the same loves: camping, sunshine, team Italy. And others not so much, I would say I could never see him in a cardigan and him and my mother are the only two Vancouverites I know that despise Trevor Linden (sick people those two, sick sick).
But he’s a great guy, with an even greater sense of humor and crabby attitude.
He’s a legend among friends and it occurred to me this week that I’ve never heard anyone call him Mr. Sandri (except maybe the cashiers at Safeway), he’s always Roger or as he likes to put it ***hole.
We both share a love of music and much of my musical taste comes from him, even though as a youngin I couldn’t stand his music, I slowly grew to appreciate the greatness that could be.
Now let’s hope the good old Italians can get it together and win today for us. As for me, I’ll be going to bed early Saturday night, I need to get up at 6:45am so we can both watch the big Italy game. In different homes of course, but we’ll bond over it when we see each other later.