Apr. 3rd, 2011

gyzym: (Facepalm (Steve))
A few days ago, my father got himself one of those iPads that aren't. Tablets, I think they're called? I could google it, but why. In any case, he made me come to his office and help him set it up, and we had the following conversation (obviously, I have subbed out Burro's real name for...er...Burro, as my father does not actually call us by the names I use in this journal):

My Father: Oh, and download that thing with the birds.
Me: What, Angry Birds?
My Father: Yeah, Burro's obsessed with it.
Me: You don't want me to download Angry Birds. It will eat your soul.
My Father: What is it? Isn't it like, a stupid game with birds?
Me: That's exactly what it is.
My Father: I'm not going to be sucked in by a bird game. I am a grown man.
Me: You don't understand what you're dealing with here. Also, I don't think people that fight with their eleven year old children about Oreo cookies get to call themselves grown--
My Father: DOWNLOAD THE BIRDS.
Me: Fine, but it's your funeral.


That was days ago. I mostly forgot about it. TONIGHT, AT 11 PM, WHILE I AM DRIVING HOME, HE CALLS ME.

Me: Hello?
My Father: THESE FUCKING BIRDS.
Me: Wha--oh my god, are you playing Angry Birds?
My Father: I don't want to talk about it.
Me: You called me.
My Father: Well, yeah, I need you to tell me how to beat 1-15.
Me: I...you...what? I'm driving, I don't remember which level that is off the top of my head--
My Father: It's the one with the birds and the wood and the glass!
Me: THEY ALL HAVE BIRDS AND WOOD AND GLASS, THAT IS THE WHOLE GAME.
My Father: I can't sleep until I win!!!
Me: I told you this would happen.
My Father: Fuck you!
Me: Fuck you!
My Father: OH, YES, YES, I GOT IT, NEVERMIND, GOODBYE.
Phone: *Disconnects*


gyzym: (Rainbow balloons!)
Last night my subconscious, apparently in the mood to fuck with me, dropped me into a dream where I was Jason Bateman's mail order bride. NO, I DON'T KNOW EITHER. I do know it must have been hysterical, as for the first time in years I woke myself up laughing, but this is the only part I remember:

Me: Are you...are you making sexy faces at yourself in the mirror?
Jason Bateman No!
Me: You are, aren't you?
Jason Bateman: ...oh, god, I miss Arrested Development so much.
Me: As do we all, Jason. As do we all.


SO, THAT HAPPENED. In the tradition of what the actual fuck, this is another Funny Shit On The Internet Is Funny post. "But Jizz," you're probably thinking, "you just did one of these the other day!" To you I say: I DREAMED I WAS JASON BATEMAN'S MAIL ORDER BRIDE. YOUR ARGUMENT IS INVALID.



You guys know the drill by now. )
gyzym: (JUST THIS ONCE)
Saturday brunch did not happen this weekend due to [various and assorted nonsense], so we did pizza dinner tonight instead. Why I always let myself believe they'll be less ridiculous later in the day, I just don't know.

Me: Ugh, this tomato sauce is killing me, I bit the inside of my cheek this morning.
My Mother: DON'T LOOK AT IT.
Me: What?
My Mother: The place you bit, don't look at it, or if you do look at it, don't be surprised if--
Me: Why would I look at it?
My Father: Who looks at that kind of thing? Do you look at it when you bite the inside of your mouth?
My Mother: Well, yeah, I mean, I can feel it, I can't help myself.
My Father: Never look inside your mouth. What are you, crazy?
Me: Okay, well, sometimes I think there's probably a good reason to--
My Father: No, no there's not, there is never a good reason to look inside your own mouth. It's like sushi--just go with it, do not look at what's inside. Unless you're you, I guess, because you're a freak and you like octopus--
Me: Octopus is delicious!
My Father: There are suckers on it.
My Mother: She can eat octopus if she wants.
My Father: We can't go by you, you look inside your own mouth! Only dentists should go there.
Me: Your intensity about this is kind of freaking me out, just so you know.
My Father: You should listen to your father, I know what I'm talking about, and--
Burrito: *BURP*
My Father: Don't burp at the dinner table, you know better than that.
Burrito: Seriously? You guys are talking about the insides of your mouths.
My Father: ....
Me: ....
My Mother: He's kind of got us there, guys.


And then, of course, there was the continuation of the Angry Bird madness after Burrito left the table:

My Mother: So, should I download it?
Me, referring to the conversation she interrupted: ...what, turkey tacos? How would you--
My Father: No, she means the birds.
Me: Oh my god, are we still on Angry Birds?
My Mother: It's all he's been talking about all day.
My Father: I got to the second part! In only a couple of days, that's good, right?
Me: I don't know, I stopped play it when I realized how much of my time it was eating.
My Father: The yellow ones explode when you hit them!
Me: You recognize that you sound like a four year old right now.
My Father: Fuck you, it took me like an hour to figure that out.
My Mother: So, should I download it?
My Father: YES
Me: NO
My Father: DON'T LISTEN TO HER IT'S AWESOME
Me: IT'S TOO LATE FOR HIM, SAVE YOURSELF
Burrito, from the other room: YOU GUYS, STOP YELLING, I'M TRYING TO WATCH A SHOW.


In conclusion, the 11 year old is the only mature adult out of all of us, and it's not even much of a surprise. The end!

Profile

gyzym: (Default)
gyzym

July 2011

S M T W T F S
     12
3456789
10111213141516
17181920212223
24252627 282930
31      

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 21st, 2017 02:33 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios