So I come home today to find a hole in a pipe, and water spraying out - not a huge high-pressure leak or anything, but it took about fifteen minutes to vacuum up all the water on the floor after it was fixed.
I call my old man when I see the leak (it's his busted-arse house, after all, even if I'm the only one living here) and ask him if he's got any bits of rubber around to clamp onto the pipe to patch the leak.
He says he doesn't have anything to patch it with, so I should just turn the water off.

(Gee,
that never occurred to me...)
And then he asks me what time it is... I can hear from the background noise that he's down at the local casino.

I tell him it's 4:15 and he tells me "Well, I'll be home in about an hour and a half..."

Really, Pops? There's a leaking pipe and a big puddle of water on the floor, and you're going to be home two hours from now?
I dug around some of the crap in the heater room and finally found a bit of rubber to patch it with, but no pipe clamps. So I got my tools out of the trunk of my car and used some of my own stash of pipe clamps to patch up the hole. And spent fifteen minutes cleaning up the water with the old man's busted-arse forty-year-old ShopVac, because the little one that I have (
had, apparently), which fits over the top of one of those five-gallon Home Depot buckets, took a walk at some point... I'm ninety percent positive that the old man borrowed it at some point and never brought it back.
Which is what happens to
all my stuff.
Every time.
So now I'll have to wait until the weekend to find the time to repair the damn thing permanently. Which I probably won't be able to do since the <expletive><expletive><expletive> has my blowtorch as well.
I had one go the other way when the tip cracked a bit. Clicked on the button on the back, and launched an ink-tipped missile.
Back in elementary school, we used to rebuild the insides of the pen into a launcher...
Tracking... The trajectory of the ink filled missile points to Pyongyang... It would seem you are about to initiate a declaration of war...
Well, the pen
is mightier than the sword...
All your bases are belong to us.
(Yes, all my containers of hobby supplies have smart-arse labels on them...)
I’ve got an idea that I need to put in writing, to see if there is any substance to it. So, you’re it...
It takes a committed, highly creative group of players who are invested in the project, but the results are generally pretty cool...
On the subject of Father's Day...
(Although I actually kinda prefer
the original Finnish version)