Shit happens.
*SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHHHHHHHHHHHH*
The poor Sharknado has garnered its first damage. Courtesy of me.
We - the folks and I - went out this morning to have our drivers' licenses changed (on account of The Move). On the way back home we stopped at a gas station, where upon (slowly!) pulling in, I scraped the bottom front bumper on the curb edge. And cracked part of it (the bumper).
My dad, who was already in a pissy mood, went batshit all over my ass. Thus I was treated to a temper tantrum worthier of a 5-year old instead of a 68-year-old, and then later, a condescending lecture on how I need to be more careful and Pay Attention and all that shit.
What the fuck ever, Dad. I fucked up. I misjudged the distance between the front of the car and the curb. I made that mistake, I wish I hadn't (because poor Sharknado!), but I did. Maybe if you'd get off your stupid ass and get me some insurance for MY car it would have been MY car that I fucked up instead of Mom's. (Not likely, because obviously I'm more used to driving my own car than others', but still.) Oh, and I love how all the damage - a dent the size of a cantaloupe in the front hood, cigarette burn in the seat, and a broken center console box, to name a few - that you did to The Brown Thing was apparently ok, but I accidentally put one little crack in what is apparently a cheapass fiberglass bumper (they just don't make 'em like they used to), and OMG CHAOS! PANIC! HORROR!
(It was funny though when Mom - who said that it wasn't my fault, it was an accident! - ripped into him and basically told him to STFU. Good thing I was in the kitchen where they couldn't see me, because I was quietly laughing my ass off at how petulant and crabby Dad was sounding.)
Needless to say Dad has spent the rest of this day sulking, while Mom and I avoid him as much as possible. :p (I busied myself taking down and packing up all my Halloween stuff.)
You know what? Shit happens. I'm sorry that it did, but what can you do. This is why I wish I'd win a big-ass lottery so that I could get out from my dad's overbearing thumb once and for all. One of these days I'm going to go off on him myself and it's going to be ugly.
The poor Sharknado has garnered its first damage. Courtesy of me.
We - the folks and I - went out this morning to have our drivers' licenses changed (on account of The Move). On the way back home we stopped at a gas station, where upon (slowly!) pulling in, I scraped the bottom front bumper on the curb edge. And cracked part of it (the bumper).
My dad, who was already in a pissy mood, went batshit all over my ass. Thus I was treated to a temper tantrum worthier of a 5-year old instead of a 68-year-old, and then later, a condescending lecture on how I need to be more careful and Pay Attention and all that shit.
What the fuck ever, Dad. I fucked up. I misjudged the distance between the front of the car and the curb. I made that mistake, I wish I hadn't (because poor Sharknado!), but I did. Maybe if you'd get off your stupid ass and get me some insurance for MY car it would have been MY car that I fucked up instead of Mom's. (Not likely, because obviously I'm more used to driving my own car than others', but still.) Oh, and I love how all the damage - a dent the size of a cantaloupe in the front hood, cigarette burn in the seat, and a broken center console box, to name a few - that you did to The Brown Thing was apparently ok, but I accidentally put one little crack in what is apparently a cheapass fiberglass bumper (they just don't make 'em like they used to), and OMG CHAOS! PANIC! HORROR!
(It was funny though when Mom - who said that it wasn't my fault, it was an accident! - ripped into him and basically told him to STFU. Good thing I was in the kitchen where they couldn't see me, because I was quietly laughing my ass off at how petulant and crabby Dad was sounding.)
Needless to say Dad has spent the rest of this day sulking, while Mom and I avoid him as much as possible. :p (I busied myself taking down and packing up all my Halloween stuff.)
You know what? Shit happens. I'm sorry that it did, but what can you do. This is why I wish I'd win a big-ass lottery so that I could get out from my dad's overbearing thumb once and for all. One of these days I'm going to go off on him myself and it's going to be ugly.