John Galt | Checking Your Mom's Drawers for Hope&Change since March 2009

Karma

I think I mentioned in the comment section a glorious conversation I had with my stoner, loser, father in law. Let me expand the conversation so you can laugh and cry along with me.

First, I was down in FL on very short notice to fix up my POS condo that was to be sold. The tenants had trashed the place so I needed to paint, make a few repairs, and get the carpet replaced. Since this is Florida, you can’t count on anyone other than your own cheesebag. Hired cheesebags will stiff you, leave you wondering, and steal the cabinets from the walls if left unattended.

So there I was, after driving 8 hours, busting my ass for two days to repair said shit hole, when my asshole father in law invites me for dinner. Great, I say. No problem. I’ll meet you at your mom’s house (not a euphemism) and we’ll go our for Messican.

Out of the shower and I’m ready to go. Plans have changed, we’re going out for Vietnamese but whatever. I’m hungry and looking forward to some fun with GNDs grandma (she’s 91 and sharp as a tack) and her uncle, who is basically a Hostage. They’re awesome people and serve as a shield to my AHFIL. When I look at dear sweet grandma and ask her if she wants to ride with me, she informs that she’s not going. She thought it would be nice if AHFIL and I could spend time together.

The world stopped. I had gone deaf. Nothing made sense. I blinked, tried to gather my shit and desperately tried to control the fear and shock spreading across my face.

My mind instantly went to the scene in The Empire Strikes Back where Luke, missing a hand, beaten to a pulp, and hanging over the edge of an impossibly long fall, finds out he’s the spawn of Darth Vader. If I were in that situation and Vader was my AHFIL and he informed me in his deep, mechanical voice that he is indeed taking me out for Vietnamese for dinner alone, I would have fucking jumped too. Sweet death take me now.