Holy Fucking Shit

My pop is the poster-boy for "Parents Who Don't Know The First Thing About Computers And Have A Computer Problem That They're Trying To Get You To Help Them With". Believe me, the language barrier doesn't help matters.

After an hour on the phone with him, I don't know what the fuck's wrong with his computer.

No matter how long it's been since I've spoken with him, no matter how hard I try to maintain a modicum of patience, I invariably end up getting curt with him.

ME
You double-clicked on "My Computer", right? So what do you see?

DAD
Okay... eet says... tree and a hap inch ploppy, A colon... local disk, C colon...

ME
Do you see the CD drive?

DAD
No...

ME
Did you put the CD into your computer?

DAD
Yes...

ME
Are you sure it was a CD you put into your computer, and not a floppy disk?

DAD
(uncertainly)
Yeah...

ME
Do you know what a CD is?

DAD
(defensively)
Yeah, sure...!

ME
You don't see anything that looks like it could be a CD drive when you double-click on "My Computer"...?

DAD
Maybe eet's tha "C colon"...

ME
No, the "C:" is your harddrive!

DAD
Maybe I dont hab enupp gyga-harts RUM por my compyooter...

ME
Maybe you're not my real father!!! Have you ever considered that??!?!?!

Well, one good thing came out of the conversation. He reminded me that it's my mom's birthday today -- which I'd remembered earlier last week but (as usually happens) had completely forgotten about.

Serenity now...

Happy Daylight Saving's Time. Go ahead, just take the extra fucking hour out of my life. I probably would have just blown it anyway...