whiski_sour: (Busted!)
My father, the one who thought we were overreacting with out interwebs withdrawl last month, is now an Internet addict.

He's usually on the computer at least once a day, searching random, random things. Or catalog shopping. Or looking at dating sites. Or mail order bride sites. I've requested a Samoan stepmother.

As far as I know, he hasn't found the porn, but I've already told him not to find the porn because I don't have the anti-virus software and whatnot for that.

He is checking his own email now. He is hilariously bad at it, asking me beginner questions while trying to look like he already knows the answer, and I don't know if he knows how to send an email, but I kinda doubt it.

At least he's checking it himself now so I don't have to.
whiski_sour: (wtf?)
Dad had finally discovered the wonder of the internet and now we can't get him off the computer.

So far he's limited himself to shopping sites, though he did spend a lot of time last night amusing himself looking for matches on a dating site. Don't ask. As far as I know, he hasn't found the porn yet.

Shocking considering he's been using Google.

So it looks like Dad has chosen to join us in the 21st century.

I still don't think he can check his email, though.
whiski_sour: (Can you stand on your head?)
My dad got a blanket for Christmas that he put on his "bed" (Dad sleeps on a sleeping bag on the living room floor...yes, he has a bedroom...no, I don't know). It's a really nice, soft, fuzzy thing that depicts a deer in the forest.

McGee is particularly fond of this blanket and likes to sleep on it. However, she blends in with it to the point that unless you see her pink collar, you don't know she's there. Dad's accidentally sat on her a couple of times because he couldn't see her.

Just now he asked where she went because he couldn't see her laying on the blanket. I told him to look for the collar. It took him a second, but he found her.

The military should be jealous of such excellent camo. I'm just saying.
whiski_sour: (pleased)
Papa is out of the hospital. He's coughed up a lot of the crap that's been hanging out in his lungs due to the pneumonia and they've gotten the fluid off of him, so now he's breathing and feeling much better.

Aunt Jo told Dad that since Papa got home, everything's been pissing him off. Dad takes that as a good sign. Heh.

While Papa was in the hospital, Dad built him a ramp for his scooter. He also fixed the screen door so it wasn't held shut be a screwdriver. And he cleaned the kitchen and the utility room.

I imagine Papa is happy with all of that. After constantly telling my Dad what to do when he was growing up, it's probably nice that he does stuff without being asked now.

Finally! The boy is well trained!
whiski_sour: (Billy laugh)
Dad finds a sweater with his old police patches on it.
Dad: I think I'll keep it for when I want to reflect back on my career as I write my memoirs. *pause* That's a load of shit.
Me: I know. You can't write. And no one wants to see your drawings on a cave wall.
Dad: You're right. Besides, I used a ghost writer then anyway.
whiski_sour: (yay!)
Went to Dad's retirement open house this afternoon. Actually, it was for him and Barney, who also retired. Either way, it was a do that neither of the guys really wanted, but the Chief insisted.

When I got up this morning I asked Dad if he was ready for his big day and he flipped me off. He did not appreciate the manic giddiness in my laugh, as it was a clear sign of me enjoying his suffering.

I rode with him to the police station and he ended up parking on the street right next to a big snowpile, so I had to climb over to the driver's side to get out. Yeah, he definitely didn't appreciate me taking pleasure in his suffering.

Really, it wasn't too bad of an event. Three car loads of family showed up, some of Barney's family, several of the other officers (including Smitty, who retired about five years ago), and some people from the city. I was suprised that no one Dad had ever arrested showed up. Of course, they might be in jail again.

He survived the party (the way he was talking and carrying on, you'd think he liked it *rolls eyes*). There was only a small formal part of the event when Dad and Barney were presented with busts engraved with their names and years of service. They also got ID cards certifying them as retired law enforcement and the other officers and members of the union got them shadow boxes with pictures and their badges. They're really nice.

I think it's finally sinking in that Dad's retired. Today was the final nail in the coffin. No matter how much he goes on about how happy he is to be done, I know there's a little part of him that's missing it. There's no way he doesn't. Not after 25 years. He can't help it.

After the party, Carrie bought Dad dinner (at Mickey D's 'cause we're fancy like that) and then she and I went to see Sherlock Holmes. Well, after the 85 trailers, we saw the movie. Seriously. I'm a woman who likes her previews. They're almost always of movies I'll never see and that pleases me. But, anything over four is excessive.

Also, I feel that showing a preview for Iron Man 2 before Sherlock Holmes is a little much. I'm just saying.

Anyway, Carrie and I both liked the movie. I'm not going to go into any kind of detailed analysis of what I liked and didn't like because I'm probably one of the last people in the States to see this movie. However, I will say the use of "Rocky Road to Dublin" pleased me muchly.

We went to Dairy Queen afterwards and got Blizzards. Unskilled people made them because all of the stuff was junked up on top. After I dropped ice cream on my pants not once, but twice, I determined that it was defective and possibly sabotaged.

Now, I'm exhausted. I'm not used to so much activity in one day.
whiski_sour: (vrooom!)
Due to the snowglobe-like weather (lots of snow, high winds, no wind breakers, we're not going to be seeing pavement for awhile), Dad's retirement open house was postponed until next week.

Which is just as well since Papa wanted to go and he's still in the hospital. His pneumonia is getting better, but he's retained a lot of fluid (it's part of his heart condition) and they want to get it all off before they send him home. So he's going to be there for a couple of more days at least. He's resigned to it, but he's not exactly happy about it.

And again, it's just as well that they keep him in a couple of more days because he doesn't need to be out in this nasty weather anyway.

Speaking of the weather, it was quite pretty toward sunset when it stopped snowing and there was a break in the wind. My skull didn't appreciate the prettiness, though.
whiski_sour: (Groove)
This is turning into quite an active week.

After over a year without a hospital stay, Papa went back in today. He's got pneumonia. Dad says it can't be too bad because while Dad was on the phone with my great-aunt, Papa was in the background just a bitchin'. Heh. They've got him on antibiotics and he should only be in the hospital for a couple of days.

Tomorrow I've got to take Pete to the vet for her shots. Neither one of us are looking forward to this trip. Pete is good at the vet and good in the car, but she doesn't like it. I spend the whole time peeling a cat off of my shoulders. You don't realize how hard buckling your seatbelt can be until you have to do it around a cat.

(FYI: The reason why we don't use a cat carrier is because Pete can't be in an enclosed space like that. She spazzes out and hurts herself. When I first brought her home from my mother's house, she'd bloodied herself by the end of the trip.)

Thursday the police department is holding an open house to celebrate Dad's retirement after 25 years of service. He really doesn't want to go. He tried to talk them out of it, but no luck. If Papa is out of the hospital by then, he wants to go, too. I'm just going to watch my dad grump and to see how many people that he's arrested over the years show up. Should be a good time.

I hope there's punch and pie.
whiski_sour: (happy holidays fuckers)
Happy Humbug!

Dad, Carrie, and I took Hobbit and Smurf (Hammie didn't want to go) down to Aunt Jo's house to have Christmas with her, Papa, Nancy, and Jake. Aunt Jo's friend CJ and her son Frank were there, too.

It rained all day yesterday and with a frost line of 3 to 5 inches, there was a lot of standing water on the way down. We took the back roads and had to drive through it because the road had flooded in a couple of places. I've never seen that before. Of course, the temperature dropped and it snowed all day, so I can only imagine what that turned into. We took the freeway back, so it'll always remain a mystery.

Dinner was good. Aunt Jo forgot to get the sweet potatoes and stuffing out of the oven until after we'd all eaten. The sweet potatoes were fine, but the stuffing didn't survive. The bottom was all burnt.

We opened presents. The girls made out like bandits, as they always do. Barbies and art supplies and gift cards, oh my! Papa got Carrie more Twilight stuff and I got two new books and season six of NCIS. Ah, the gift of Gibbs.

Dad wrapped Jake's present in camo duct tape over packing tape. It was great. It took him about fifteen minutes to get it open. What did Dad get him? A knife. Did Jake cut himself on it? Of course. That's how you properly break it in.

We managed to play a couple of hands of Spit before it was time to pack up and take the girls home. It was a long day, at least for Hobbit. She fell asleep on the way home. She told me earlier than Santa came to her house too early this morning, that's why she was tired.

I'm tired because Christmas never fails to wear me out. But it was a good one.

I hope yours was good, too.
whiski_sour: (you love me)
Dad gave me my Christmas present today. I don't know why. Some years he gives it to me the day he buys it and some years he wraps them and makes me wait until Christmas to open it. There's no rhyme or reason.

Anyway, Dad got me a really nice laptop table, which is preferable to the redneck set up I've been using. I can use my laptop comfortably in bed now without turning into a hunchback. It's fantastic.

My new laptop table has a place for a mouse and I like the idea of not having to use the touch mouse anymore. I'm hoping this Tiki Idol Laptop will be okay with that. In theory, I think I should be able to use a mouse with this thing, but in practice, well, you can't really trust unlucky technological items. We'll see.

In the meantime, the mousepad will be used as a catpad. At least according to Pete it will be.
whiski_sour: (death note)
So, they moved up Dad's retirement date from March to January 8th.

Since he takes the entire month of December off for vacation anyway and would probably be on vacation until about the 8th, he's basically going from vacation to retirement.

I'm doomed.
whiski_sour: (orly?)
Dad's on vacation. I can definitely expect him to be underfoot for the next five weeks.

He's also put in for retirement. He'll be done working in March. Then he'll be underfoot until I move out.

I can't help but think this might be a sneaky way of getting me to move out of the house.

Sure he says that it's because after 25 years he's tired and ready to relax. But I wouldn't put it past him.

I'm just saying.
whiski_sour: (wtf?)
Dad made another crockpot dish for dinner tonight.

Me: What's in this? What's this unidentified green stuff?
Dad: Broccoli.
Me: So you say.
Dad: You're lucky there's not Japanese Beetles in it. Every time I took off the lid, one would land in the crockpot and I'd have to pick it out. It finally got to a point where I was considering just stirring them in.
Me: I'm good with just the broccoli, thanks.

There is a very good reason why I seldom ask what's in the food that I don't cook around here. It's usually just best I don't know.
whiski_sour: (wants)
Dad cooks on the weekends. Since he got this new crockpot recipe book, we've been trying new things just about every weekend.

Now, Dad has a cast iron stomach and for him, the hotter the better. I like spicy food and can tolerate some pretty hot stuff. Carrie can't handle heat at all. Period.

Last week Dad made shrimp creole. Dad and Kenny thought it was flat. I thought it was okay. Carrie thought it was fire in a bowl. While I was up in her room to inventory my action figures, Carrie was eating dinner. Her lips and tongue were burning and her nose was running. It was fantastic.

Today, Dad made chicken creole. Dad, Kenny, and I all thought it was pretty good. Carrie couldn't eat it. She just smelled it, and while she thought it smelled good, it made her eyes water. None of us thought it was very spicy, but Carrie couldn't hack it.

Poor Carrie. She's in the wrong house for bland.
whiski_sour: (is he dead?)
Castle...'What was the murder weapon?' 'Some kind of death ray.' 'Turns your insides out.' )

In non-TV news, today was Dad's birthday. Papa, Aunt Jo, and Nancy came up for cake and ice cream. They brought the dogs, too. It was a good visit. I gave Papa his copy of the anthology and he gave me a DVD of The Beast With Five Fingers.

I guess you could say we exchanged horrors.

Tis the season.
whiski_sour: (vrooom!)
We've been having trouble with one of our landlines the past couple of days. No dial tone, which makes it hard to establish a connection when using the ancient dial-up. So Dad's been dicking with it for two days. Things that have been said during the course of this fix-it ordeal.

*Dad is outside with the phone, checking the outside box since we've had trouble before. His cell phone rings and I answer it.*
Me: What?
Dad: I got a dial tone. I was seeing if I could dial.
Me: Oh.
Dad: What are you doing answering my phone anyway?
Me: Your the sort of person who would need something inside and instead of coming in to get it, since you had the phone and all, would call me and tell me to get it for you.
Dad: If I was going to do that, I'd call your number.
Me: You can't remember my number.
Dad: Kiss my ass. *hangs up*

*Dad is replacing the phone jack in the dining room, cursing all the way.*
Me: What's the matter?
Dad: There's one screw mount and it's right behind the wires. I don't know of any family in the design business. *string of curses* Actually, I know that none of our family designed this. If they did, it'd just come with a roll of duct tape so you could tape it to the wall.

I'm happy to report that Dad managed to mount the new phone jack fixture to the wall without resorting to duct tape. And, so far *knocks on wood* we've had no more trouble with the phone line.

Of course, tomorrow is another day.
whiski_sour: (seems inapproriate)
Dad: That was a bad neighborhood, though.
Me: That Steak N Shake was down the street from a church. I don't remember it being a bad neighborhood.
Dad: It was. The pimps and hookers used to eat at that Steak N Shake.
Me: Yeah, but they were classy. It's not like riding down Eldo to Rax Roastbeef at 4:30 in the afternoon and seeing the hookers there on the stroll. And they weren't classy hookers, either. They were rough hookers. Jeans and flannel shirt wearing hookers.

I'm sure the judge sitting at the booth behind Dad didn't pay any attention to the conversation since he knows Dad.

There's no telling what the people behind me thought if they were listening. I'd think that hookers don't often come up in resteraunt dinner conversation for most people unless they're in law enforcement or planning some after dinner entertainment.

And if you are the latter, I do not recommend the hookers on Eldo. I'm just saying.
whiski_sour: (wants)
Dad bought a book of crock pot recipes and tried one of them tonight. It wasn't too bad.

Basically, it had a lot of the ingredients you'd put in a goulash, only it was more like a chili. Then, we put it over noodles. It looked disgusting, but was pretty tasty.

I'm thinking that since Dad's got this new recipe book and he only cooks on weekends, he should be set for dinner ideas until next spring when it gets too warm.

Then he'll have to buy a new book.

I'm okay with that.
whiski_sour: (Can you stand on your head?)
Spot was MIA most of the day. No one saw her. Period. About 6:30, Carrie and Dad started searching.

Turns out that she's been in the basement all day, though Dad's not sure where since he searched down there and didn't find her.

Carrie chewed Spot out for worrying her. She's grounded and she gets no pizza flavored goldfish.

Dad about busted a rib laughing at Carrie lecturing the cat.

In other news, I watched SGU tonight. I don't feel like going into detail, but I think it was pretty okay. I don't know if I'll stick it out for the whole season, but we'll see. I liked the cameos, though.

And, finally, today my mom, [livejournal.com profile] whiskis_mom, turned 50. I didn't rub it in too much because, well, she's my mom. I got my love of revenge from her. I know better.
whiski_sour: (Silly)
[livejournal.com profile] one_more_cherry supplied me with some awesome Ted Raimi icons because she is the best icon dealer ever.

In other news, Dad came home this afternoon with fixings for dinner.

Me: What did you get?
Dad: *putting things away* I figure to make cheese and broccoli soup, maybe throw some taters in there.
Me: Sounds good.
Dad: *starts to open one of two containers of roasted chicken* These c-h-i-c-k-e-n-s can be for dinner, too.
McGee: *jumps off of the back of the chair, races over to Dad, and starts meowing and pawing at him*
Me: Holy shit, she can spell.

For the record, Pete can also spell; she just chooses not to show off her superior intellect in front of such substandard bipeds.

Or at least, that's how I interpreted her disgruntled look at the time.

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Cheshyre

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