In the words of Brian Setzer: "Everything I own is a broken-down piece of junk."
My family is insane (though I'm sure every human on Earth can claim the same). For my dad's birthday, my grandfather decided he wanted to get him a computer-but not from Best Buy or Wal-Mart or something. No, he wanted my brother to build one, so we all agreed to keep it a secret until the big day. (Not wise. Not wise.)
My brother researched parts and typed up a list (in Excel, which shows how hardcore he is about this stuff). I took him to our grandparents, where everything was purchased online and sent to their house. We waited a few days, the packages arrived, I drove him over (again) so he could start assembling the computer. BUT! The wrong processor was bought (which wasn't actually my brother's fault), so we ended up missing the birthday deadline. Dad visited his parents that day, but thankfully never asked why the spare room was locked.
Grandpa sent the first processor back, we waited some more, and the right processor finally showed up. I drove over there again (except I had to use an unfamiliar route, and nearly got us lost) and let the master get to work.
Last night, after many setbacks, the computer was finally complete.
This morning, we told dad that grandpa's e-mail system was acting funny, and he really needed my brother's help. With no one to take him, dad was forced to drive my brother over there. The minute they left, I got dressed and waited five minutes before following, so I could witness the big reveal. (It sounds elaborate, but if I'd been available to drive my brother, then there wouldn't have been a reason for dad to go.) When I walked through the door, dad asked, "What are you doing here?" Suspicious pause. "Did you and your mother have a fight?"
And because I could no longer stand the intricate stories and well-crafted falsehoods, I said, "GUYS, LET'S DO THIS." So we herded dad to the spare room.
The look on his face.
It was totally worth it. See, dad doesn't have much: his cell-phone belongs to his work, not him; his lawnmowers are broken; we get television reception because of our redneck antennae. My brother has a computer (which he's always using) and I have a laptop (which mom's always using), so dad doesn't even get much online time. This one, nice item is actually his.
Of course, because my family can't just let a good thing happen, mom became annoyed that we had to clear off her "sewing table" (I've never seen her sew in my entire life) to make room for dad's new PC. She finally relented, but once it was set up, she seemed kinda happy with it. We'll have to see how good the location is, but that'll hopefully be its permanent home.
"Is this," my f-list asks, "the end of your stupid-long story?"
No. No, it is not, because today, around 3:00, our washing machine stopped working. It's currently in pieces in the laundry room, and I have no idea how I'll wash clothes. (I might have to use my grandparent's washer and dryer, which means another drive over there.) Poor dad-he finally gets something of his own, only to discover yet another thing has broken: first the lawnmowers, then the oven, then the dryer, and now the washing machine. Karma, you !@#$%.
P.S. Despite mom's protests, she was vital in convincing dad nothing was amiss. Since the computer had to be built at grandpa's house, we had to be there at odd, late hours, so mom was always telling dad that we were hanging out with friends or that my brother was working late. It was hella hard to keep everything under wraps. I'm so used to telling dad about my day that omitting funny grandparent-related stories was difficult.
P.P.S. SUPERNATURAL FANS: My brother watched an episode! (At grandpa's house, 'cause they have cable.) I think it's because I'm constantly yapping about it. From what he describes, the episode was All Hell Breaks Loose pt. II, though I wish it'd been something more humorous (like Yellow Fever) since AHBL was so history-heavy. He didn't quite know what was going on (ex. "some guy sold his soul", "this other dude popped out of nowhere and tackled someone", "they used a special gun"). I love that little guy.
My brother researched parts and typed up a list (in Excel, which shows how hardcore he is about this stuff). I took him to our grandparents, where everything was purchased online and sent to their house. We waited a few days, the packages arrived, I drove him over (again) so he could start assembling the computer. BUT! The wrong processor was bought (which wasn't actually my brother's fault), so we ended up missing the birthday deadline. Dad visited his parents that day, but thankfully never asked why the spare room was locked.
Grandpa sent the first processor back, we waited some more, and the right processor finally showed up. I drove over there again (except I had to use an unfamiliar route, and nearly got us lost) and let the master get to work.
Last night, after many setbacks, the computer was finally complete.
This morning, we told dad that grandpa's e-mail system was acting funny, and he really needed my brother's help. With no one to take him, dad was forced to drive my brother over there. The minute they left, I got dressed and waited five minutes before following, so I could witness the big reveal. (It sounds elaborate, but if I'd been available to drive my brother, then there wouldn't have been a reason for dad to go.) When I walked through the door, dad asked, "What are you doing here?" Suspicious pause. "Did you and your mother have a fight?"
And because I could no longer stand the intricate stories and well-crafted falsehoods, I said, "GUYS, LET'S DO THIS." So we herded dad to the spare room.
The look on his face.
It was totally worth it. See, dad doesn't have much: his cell-phone belongs to his work, not him; his lawnmowers are broken; we get television reception because of our redneck antennae. My brother has a computer (which he's always using) and I have a laptop (which mom's always using), so dad doesn't even get much online time. This one, nice item is actually his.
Of course, because my family can't just let a good thing happen, mom became annoyed that we had to clear off her "sewing table" (I've never seen her sew in my entire life) to make room for dad's new PC. She finally relented, but once it was set up, she seemed kinda happy with it. We'll have to see how good the location is, but that'll hopefully be its permanent home.
"Is this," my f-list asks, "the end of your stupid-long story?"
No. No, it is not, because today, around 3:00, our washing machine stopped working. It's currently in pieces in the laundry room, and I have no idea how I'll wash clothes. (I might have to use my grandparent's washer and dryer, which means another drive over there.) Poor dad-he finally gets something of his own, only to discover yet another thing has broken: first the lawnmowers, then the oven, then the dryer, and now the washing machine. Karma, you !@#$%.
P.S. Despite mom's protests, she was vital in convincing dad nothing was amiss. Since the computer had to be built at grandpa's house, we had to be there at odd, late hours, so mom was always telling dad that we were hanging out with friends or that my brother was working late. It was hella hard to keep everything under wraps. I'm so used to telling dad about my day that omitting funny grandparent-related stories was difficult.
P.P.S. SUPERNATURAL FANS: My brother watched an episode! (At grandpa's house, 'cause they have cable.) I think it's because I'm constantly yapping about it. From what he describes, the episode was All Hell Breaks Loose pt. II, though I wish it'd been something more humorous (like Yellow Fever) since AHBL was so history-heavy. He didn't quite know what was going on (ex. "some guy sold his soul", "this other dude popped out of nowhere and tackled someone", "they used a special gun"). I love that little guy.