Mmmmk.........idiot parents....
Right, so I'm working on my computer, like always. I'm trying to be professional about my work with Industrial Light & Magic, right? And it's 2300 (11pm), and my dad finally gets home, and he comes in and asks me if I want my comp disassembled, since it's the only thing I care about... goddamnit, wtf? My computer is the only inanimate object I could ever love like a child of my own flesh and blood...and he knows that if I didn't have a computer, I'd snap. I just can't exist without that shiny black box in my room, that shiny little box that lets me express myself the way noone else ever could. It doesn't complain when I curse at it, or when I make an obscene model, or when I'm on it too long...I think I'll in time develop an artificial intelligence for it, that way I can at least have someone that I can speak to anytime I want to...at least in a text box.