RAWR.
Before I tell this story, which you don't care about, I'll tell you my living situation, which you also don't care about. My family lives with my dad's mom and his stepfather (Em and Milt), in this tiny little apartment attached to the house. I have a diagram on the PC that explains this, it's not as bad as it sounds. >_> I mean, we're waterfront. On an estimated million-dollar estate, and not paying for it. Free cable. Quite handy.
Well, now that I've depressed all you, it's not as good as the above makes it seem. And I'm aware I totally contradicted myself just then. Shut up.
So. Milt, who's the captain/commander/head honcho/whatever of the local Power Squadron this year, has thusly decided to finally upgrade his ancient 300-meg HD computer to impress the otehr old guys, or something. So we (me and my dad, as Milt has us do stuff for him in lieu of rent, I have more horror stories about that, too. =p) were planning to go to Annapolis and buy a package deal with a flat-panel 17" mmonitor, as they're using our 19" one, and my mom wants a flat panel. A bit conniving, but whatever. She said it, not me. >_>
Anyway. We go to the local Staples first, and end up getting a HP Pavilion something-or-other, very nice. 9-in-1 memory card reader, CD/DVD writer, USB 2.0 (I think), 160 gigs, all the nice stuff. No floppy drive, though, so we had to buy one for $30 or so, as that's the only way to get all his data (I'm guessing it's less then 20 megs total. =p) from the old PC to the new, shiny one. So dad installed that, then I took over for the set-up. But dad is not content with simply copying the data to a floppy and then moving the tower to their/pour moniter. Noooo, he makes me, mind you, not him, the git who wants it done this way in the first place, go upstairs in our house, unplug the monitor there, lug it downstairs and across the house, and hook it up to the new PC, because he wants to see them side by side. Arse, that monitor's heavy. Next issue arises with the computer name and description. I was all for naming it Chapel Cove (the name of the tiny cove we're on, and also the name of the house) and leaving the discription blank, but dad makes this HUGE FUCKING DEAL over calling it "ChapelCoveHP" and me writing this huge description on "This is Milt's Chapel Cove PC, a HP Pavilion blahblahblah." He won that one, the abster. So. Enter me ten minutes later, booting up Word because for some reason, my dad told me to. (btw, wtf's with the MS Office 60-day trial? Word should be standard, damnit!) I was getting ready to pop the serial number in, when dad starts yelling at me "No! Bob (friend of ours) has registration numbers!"
"...So?"
"So we'll put those in and not have to do the sixty-day trial!"
"... Um, no?"
"YES!"
"Dad, the registration number is to make sure it's not a copied CD or something. It won't have anythign to do with the trial. We're gonna have to buy Office, or have someone give us a copy."
"OMG NO THE REGISTETION NUMBERS!?!?!!!!"
Bah. That really pissed me off.
Well, there's my random bitching for the day. He''s at Staples right now, buying floppies (idiot), and is gonna make me do a million other kinds of shit when he gets back. And the worst bit is, I'll probably be wrong about the numbers and he'll hold it over my head for years. He's just so_fucking_arrogant. Setting up an old, racist fogey's new PC is NOT what I want to do on my last day of summer, damnit!
Well, now that I've depressed all you, it's not as good as the above makes it seem. And I'm aware I totally contradicted myself just then. Shut up.
So. Milt, who's the captain/commander/head honcho/whatever of the local Power Squadron this year, has thusly decided to finally upgrade his ancient 300-meg HD computer to impress the otehr old guys, or something. So we (me and my dad, as Milt has us do stuff for him in lieu of rent, I have more horror stories about that, too. =p) were planning to go to Annapolis and buy a package deal with a flat-panel 17" mmonitor, as they're using our 19" one, and my mom wants a flat panel. A bit conniving, but whatever. She said it, not me. >_>
Anyway. We go to the local Staples first, and end up getting a HP Pavilion something-or-other, very nice. 9-in-1 memory card reader, CD/DVD writer, USB 2.0 (I think), 160 gigs, all the nice stuff. No floppy drive, though, so we had to buy one for $30 or so, as that's the only way to get all his data (I'm guessing it's less then 20 megs total. =p) from the old PC to the new, shiny one. So dad installed that, then I took over for the set-up. But dad is not content with simply copying the data to a floppy and then moving the tower to their/pour moniter. Noooo, he makes me, mind you, not him, the git who wants it done this way in the first place, go upstairs in our house, unplug the monitor there, lug it downstairs and across the house, and hook it up to the new PC, because he wants to see them side by side. Arse, that monitor's heavy. Next issue arises with the computer name and description. I was all for naming it Chapel Cove (the name of the tiny cove we're on, and also the name of the house) and leaving the discription blank, but dad makes this HUGE FUCKING DEAL over calling it "ChapelCoveHP" and me writing this huge description on "This is Milt's Chapel Cove PC, a HP Pavilion blahblahblah." He won that one, the abster. So. Enter me ten minutes later, booting up Word because for some reason, my dad told me to. (btw, wtf's with the MS Office 60-day trial? Word should be standard, damnit!) I was getting ready to pop the serial number in, when dad starts yelling at me "No! Bob (friend of ours) has registration numbers!"
"...So?"
"So we'll put those in and not have to do the sixty-day trial!"
"... Um, no?"
"YES!"
"Dad, the registration number is to make sure it's not a copied CD or something. It won't have anythign to do with the trial. We're gonna have to buy Office, or have someone give us a copy."
"OMG NO THE REGISTETION NUMBERS!?!?!!!!"
Bah. That really pissed me off.
Well, there's my random bitching for the day. He''s at Staples right now, buying floppies (idiot), and is gonna make me do a million other kinds of shit when he gets back. And the worst bit is, I'll probably be wrong about the numbers and he'll hold it over my head for years. He's just so_fucking_arrogant. Setting up an old, racist fogey's new PC is NOT what I want to do on my last day of summer, damnit!