,

[Spikesoldier]

i didnt even read the thread

but

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA

 

[JulesMaximus]

Damn, nobody quoted the OP and now he's edited it...

 

[effowe]

So today I actually felt like cleaning my room. And I mean cleaning. Dusting, filing papers, sorting/tagging my music collection, and even caulking up a few cracks that I know centipedes use as subway stations. It was weird.

About an hour ago, I wanted to vacuum/dust my room. So I get the vacuum cleaner and attempt to vacuum. Suddenly the thing loses suction. I open it up and yep the duct tape that my dad had jury rigged the already ripped bag with had busted. At this point, I ask my mom if she ever bought replacement bags (we discussed this weeks ago) and she said yes. Guess what, they don't fit. She bought Panasonic bags for a Riccar Vaccum cleaner (let that sink in). I point this out. Her response: "But the sales-person assured me they would work! I bought this from the Riccar Store!". *sigh* How could someone with a Masters from a good university act like such a stupid bitch. NEVER TRUST SALES PEOPLE! 70% of them are trained monkeys who don't know shit and the others want to rip you off! If it's a Riccar store they should sell fucking Riccar bags for fucking Riccar vaccum cleaners. And IF you're going to buy ANYTHING from ANYWHERE you (OMFG) research what you're going to buy until you have the dimensions, hi-res picture, and serial number deeply traced in your mashed shit-heap of a brain! Then you know EXACTLY what you want and you can tell any salesperson who wants to "help" you to FUCK THE HELL OFF bitch. And here's the catch: IT TAKES ALL OF 10 MINTUES of GOOGLeING!

Now for my dad:

Just 40 minutes ago, I was a retard and put too much weight on my printer's paper tray, breaking the cheap little plastic nibs that held it up. I know my dad has a set of tools/equipment in the basement, but he'd just overcomplicate things. So I get ready to leave to pick up some 2-part epoxy and some plastic that I can cut to replace said nibs. Easy process, easy fix. Unfortunately, he catches me going out the door and makes a polite yet pointed farting asshole of a question as to where I'm going. Once again, I explain. He then says "Oh, you know I've got a lot of stuff in the basement! This is why I save this stuff to save money!" (Gleefully like a gay elf and a chimp came together to experiment with Paris Hilton's new perfume line) I am then figuratively dragged down to the basement and eye-raped by the huge collection of random crap and rusty tools he's been collecting over his lifetime. Luckily, there was a plastic widget that I cut up and it did the job perfectly, but aside from that it was a fucking nightmare. I received a not-so-subtle lecture on how to use epoxy (ie: "make sure you mix equal amounts" 10 seconds later: "A toothpick's good for that"). At this point, I pretty much give him the non-vulgar version "I've built high-powered rockets for NASA you bastard, I think I know how to use fuckingEPOXY!" After another high-volume exchange I gave him the "my printer, my fuckup, my fix" (I actually bought this printer with my own money). He backed off and continued his lectures, and I had to move to my bedroom and lock the door to keep him from "checking on my progress" every 5 seconds. Then my mom asked what was going on, and I filled her in on the situation. Unfortunately that involved me opening the door, which my dad used to politely shove his way into my room and my mom followed suit. Before you know it, all 3 of us are crowded around my printer, with them offering ideas that I'd already thought of and me shouting variations of "Fuck off! Bitches!". Finally I got them out of my room, and low and behold I fixed the fucker in 10 minutes! Right now I'm waiting for the epoxy to harden, but everything looks pristine. So they made the process 4x longer! ZOMFuckingG!. So I just confronted them with this and my dad gave me this smug-ass grin and said "We're just helpful people. We really like to help." As I'm typing this, I'm wondering whether to strangle him or not for that shit.

My Dad is a PhD in EE from CalTech, and my Mom has a Masters in Music from The University of Illinois! HTF did these two live? It's like their brains just turned to shit during my childhood or something! And I have so much sh!t on them from the last 3 years it's pathetic, but that's for a far more depressing rant.

Bump for the original post, as the OP decided to erase it.

 

[Anubis]

so wait you build rockets for NASA and live with your mom and dad?

 

[Platypus]

Originally posted by: effowe

So today I actually felt like cleaning my room. And I mean cleaning. Dusting, filing papers, sorting/tagging my music collection, and even caulking up a few cracks that I know centipedes use as subway stations. It was weird.

About an hour ago, I wanted to vacuum/dust my room. So I get the vacuum cleaner and attempt to vacuum. Suddenly the thing loses suction. I open it up and yep the duct tape that my dad had jury rigged the already ripped bag with had busted. At this point, I ask my mom if she ever bought replacement bags (we discussed this weeks ago) and she said yes. Guess what, they don't fit. She bought Panasonic bags for a Riccar Vaccum cleaner (let that sink in). I point this out. Her response: "But the sales-person assured me they would work! I bought this from the Riccar Store!". *sigh* How could someone with a Masters from a good university act like such a stupid bitch. NEVER TRUST SALES PEOPLE! 70% of them are trained monkeys who don't know shit and the others want to rip you off! If it's a Riccar store they should sell fucking Riccar bags for fucking Riccar vaccum cleaners. And IF you're going to buy ANYTHING from ANYWHERE you (OMFG) research what you're going to buy until you have the dimensions, hi-res picture, and serial number deeply traced in your mashed shit-heap of a brain! Then you know EXACTLY what you want and you can tell any salesperson who wants to "help" you to FUCK THE HELL OFF bitch. And here's the catch: IT TAKES ALL OF 10 MINTUES of GOOGLeING!

Now for my dad:

Just 40 minutes ago, I was a retard and put too much weight on my printer's paper tray, breaking the cheap little plastic nibs that held it up. I know my dad has a set of tools/equipment in the basement, but he'd just overcomplicate things. So I get ready to leave to pick up some 2-part epoxy and some plastic that I can cut to replace said nibs. Easy process, easy fix. Unfortunately, he catches me going out the door and makes a polite yet pointed farting asshole of a question as to where I'm going. Once again, I explain. He then says "Oh, you know I've got a lot of stuff in the basement! This is why I save this stuff to save money!" (Gleefully like a gay elf and a chimp came together to experiment with Paris Hilton's new perfume line) I am then figuratively dragged down to the basement and eye-raped by the huge collection of random crap and rusty tools he's been collecting over his lifetime. Luckily, there was a plastic widget that I cut up and it did the job perfectly, but aside from that it was a fucking nightmare. I received a not-so-subtle lecture on how to use epoxy (ie: "make sure you mix equal amounts" 10 seconds later: "A toothpick's good for that"). At this point, I pretty much give him the non-vulgar version "I've built high-powered rockets for NASA you bastard, I think I know how to use fuckingEPOXY!" After another high-volume exchange I gave him the "my printer, my fuckup, my fix" (I actually bought this printer with my own money). He backed off and continued his lectures, and I had to move to my bedroom and lock the door to keep him from "checking on my progress" every 5 seconds. Then my mom asked what was going on, and I filled her in on the situation. Unfortunately that involved me opening the door, which my dad used to politely shove his way into my room and my mom followed suit. Before you know it, all 3 of us are crowded around my printer, with them offering ideas that I'd already thought of and me shouting variations of "Fuck off! Bitches!". Finally I got them out of my room, and low and behold I fixed the fucker in 10 minutes! Right now I'm waiting for the epoxy to harden, but everything looks pristine. So they made the process 4x longer! ZOMFuckingG!. So I just confronted them with this and my dad gave me this smug-ass grin and said "We're just helpful people. We really like to help." As I'm typing this, I'm wondering whether to strangle him or not for that shit.

My Dad is a PhD in EE from CalTech, and my Mom has a Masters in Music from The University of Illinois! HTF did these two live? It's like their brains just turned to shit during my childhood or something! And I have so much sh!t on them from the last 3 years it's pathetic, but that's for a far more depressing rant.

Bump for the original post, as the OP decided to erase it.

:heart:

 

[loup garou]

Originally posted by: effowe

So today I actually felt like cleaning my room. And I mean cleaning. Dusting, filing papers, sorting/tagging my music collection, and even caulking up a few cracks that I know centipedes use as subway stations. It was weird.

About an hour ago, I wanted to vacuum/dust my room. So I get the vacuum cleaner and attempt to vacuum. Suddenly the thing loses suction. I open it up and yep the duct tape that my dad had jury rigged the already ripped bag with had busted. At this point, I ask my mom if she ever bought replacement bags (we discussed this weeks ago) and she said yes. Guess what, they don't fit. She bought Panasonic bags for a Riccar Vaccum cleaner (let that sink in). I point this out. Her response: "But the sales-person assured me they would work! I bought this from the Riccar Store!". *sigh* How could someone with a Masters from a good university act like such a stupid bitch. NEVER TRUST SALES PEOPLE! 70% of them are trained monkeys who don't know shit and the others want to rip you off! If it's a Riccar store they should sell fucking Riccar bags for fucking Riccar vaccum cleaners. And IF you're going to buy ANYTHING from ANYWHERE you (OMFG) research what you're going to buy until you have the dimensions, hi-res picture, and serial number deeply traced in your mashed shit-heap of a brain! Then you know EXACTLY what you want and you can tell any salesperson who wants to "help" you to FUCK THE HELL OFF bitch. And here's the catch: IT TAKES ALL OF 10 MINTUES of GOOGLeING!

Now for my dad:

Just 40 minutes ago, I was a retard and put too much weight on my printer's paper tray, breaking the cheap little plastic nibs that held it up. I know my dad has a set of tools/equipment in the basement, but he'd just overcomplicate things. So I get ready to leave to pick up some 2-part epoxy and some plastic that I can cut to replace said nibs. Easy process, easy fix. Unfortunately, he catches me going out the door and makes a polite yet pointed farting asshole of a question as to where I'm going. Once again, I explain. He then says "Oh, you know I've got a lot of stuff in the basement! This is why I save this stuff to save money!" (Gleefully like a gay elf and a chimp came together to experiment with Paris Hilton's new perfume line) I am then figuratively dragged down to the basement and eye-raped by the huge collection of random crap and rusty tools he's been collecting over his lifetime. Luckily, there was a plastic widget that I cut up and it did the job perfectly, but aside from that it was a fucking nightmare. I received a not-so-subtle lecture on how to use epoxy (ie: "make sure you mix equal amounts" 10 seconds later: "A toothpick's good for that"). At this point, I pretty much give him the non-vulgar version "I've built high-powered rockets for NASA you bastard, I think I know how to use fuckingEPOXY!" After another high-volume exchange I gave him the "my printer, my fuckup, my fix" (I actually bought this printer with my own money). He backed off and continued his lectures, and I had to move to my bedroom and lock the door to keep him from "checking on my progress" every 5 seconds. Then my mom asked what was going on, and I filled her in on the situation. Unfortunately that involved me opening the door, which my dad used to politely shove his way into my room and my mom followed suit. Before you know it, all 3 of us are crowded around my printer, with them offering ideas that I'd already thought of and me shouting variations of "Fuck off! Bitches!". Finally I got them out of my room, and low and behold I fixed the fucker in 10 minutes! Right now I'm waiting for the epoxy to harden, but everything looks pristine. So they made the process 4x longer! ZOMFuckingG!. So I just confronted them with this and my dad gave me this smug-ass grin and said "We're just helpful people. We really like to help." As I'm typing this, I'm wondering whether to strangle him or not for that shit.

My Dad is a PhD in EE from CalTech, and my Mom has a Masters in Music from The University of Illinois! HTF did these two live? It's like their brains just turned to shit during my childhood or something! And I have so much sh!t on them from the last 3 years it's pathetic, but that's for a far more depressing rant.

Bump for the original post, as the OP decided to erase it.

:laugh:

 

[irishScott]

Originally posted by: effowe

So today I actually felt like cleaning my room. And I mean cleaning. Dusting, filing papers, sorting/tagging my music collection, and even caulking up a few cracks that I know centipedes use as subway stations. It was weird.

About an hour ago, I wanted to vacuum/dust my room. So I get the vacuum cleaner and attempt to vacuum. Suddenly the thing loses suction. I open it up and yep the duct tape that my dad had jury rigged the already ripped bag with had busted. At this point, I ask my mom if she ever bought replacement bags (we discussed this weeks ago) and she said yes. Guess what, they don't fit. She bought Panasonic bags for a Riccar Vaccum cleaner (let that sink in). I point this out. Her response: "But the sales-person assured me they would work! I bought this from the Riccar Store!". *sigh* How could someone with a Masters from a good university act like such a stupid bitch. NEVER TRUST SALES PEOPLE! 70% of them are trained monkeys who don't know shit and the others want to rip you off! If it's a Riccar store they should sell fucking Riccar bags for fucking Riccar vaccum cleaners. And IF you're going to buy ANYTHING from ANYWHERE you (OMFG) research what you're going to buy until you have the dimensions, hi-res picture, and serial number deeply traced in your mashed shit-heap of a brain! Then you know EXACTLY what you want and you can tell any salesperson who wants to "help" you to FUCK THE HELL OFF bitch. And here's the catch: IT TAKES ALL OF 10 MINTUES of GOOGLeING!

Now for my dad:

Just 40 minutes ago, I was a retard and put too much weight on my printer's paper tray, breaking the cheap little plastic nibs that held it up. I know my dad has a set of tools/equipment in the basement, but he'd just overcomplicate things. So I get ready to leave to pick up some 2-part epoxy and some plastic that I can cut to replace said nibs. Easy process, easy fix. Unfortunately, he catches me going out the door and makes a polite yet pointed farting asshole of a question as to where I'm going. Once again, I explain. He then says "Oh, you know I've got a lot of stuff in the basement! This is why I save this stuff to save money!" (Gleefully like a gay elf and a chimp came together to experiment with Paris Hilton's new perfume line) I am then figuratively dragged down to the basement and eye-raped by the huge collection of random crap and rusty tools he's been collecting over his lifetime. Luckily, there was a plastic widget that I cut up and it did the job perfectly, but aside from that it was a fucking nightmare. I received a not-so-subtle lecture on how to use epoxy (ie: "make sure you mix equal amounts" 10 seconds later: "A toothpick's good for that"). At this point, I pretty much give him the non-vulgar version "I've built high-powered rockets for NASA you bastard, I think I know how to use fuckingEPOXY!" After another high-volume exchange I gave him the "my printer, my fuckup, my fix" (I actually bought this printer with my own money). He backed off and continued his lectures, and I had to move to my bedroom and lock the door to keep him from "checking on my progress" every 5 seconds. Then my mom asked what was going on, and I filled her in on the situation. Unfortunately that involved me opening the door, which my dad used to politely shove his way into my room and my mom followed suit. Before you know it, all 3 of us are crowded around my printer, with them offering ideas that I'd already thought of and me shouting variations of "Fuck off! Bitches!". Finally I got them out of my room, and low and behold I fixed the fucker in 10 minutes! Right now I'm waiting for the epoxy to harden, but everything looks pristine. So they made the process 4x longer! ZOMFuckingG!. So I just confronted them with this and my dad gave me this smug-ass grin and said "We're just helpful people. We really like to help." As I'm typing this, I'm wondering whether to strangle him or not for that shit.

My Dad is a PhD in EE from CalTech, and my Mom has a Masters in Music from The University of Illinois! HTF did these two live? It's like their brains just turned to shit during my childhood or something! And I have so much sh!t on them from the last 3 years it's pathetic, but that's for a far more depressing rant.

Bump for the original post, as the OP decided to erase it.

Go ahead and read it. Just read my edited post first. Consider it a disclaimer.

 

[RadiclDreamer]

Watch the little jerk try to backpeddle his way out of this and make excuses

 

[JulesMaximus]

Originally posted by: effowe

So today I actually felt like cleaning my room. And I mean cleaning. Dusting, filing papers, sorting/tagging my music collection, and even caulking up a few cracks that I know centipedes use as subway stations. It was weird.

About an hour ago, I wanted to vacuum/dust my room. So I get the vacuum cleaner and attempt to vacuum. Suddenly the thing loses suction. I open it up and yep the duct tape that my dad had jury rigged the already ripped bag with had busted. At this point, I ask my mom if she ever bought replacement bags (we discussed this weeks ago) and she said yes. Guess what, they don't fit. She bought Panasonic bags for a Riccar Vaccum cleaner (let that sink in). I point this out. Her response: "But the sales-person assured me they would work! I bought this from the Riccar Store!". *sigh* How could someone with a Masters from a good university act like such a stupid bitch. NEVER TRUST SALES PEOPLE! 70% of them are trained monkeys who don't know shit and the others want to rip you off! If it's a Riccar store they should sell fucking Riccar bags for fucking Riccar vaccum cleaners. And IF you're going to buy ANYTHING from ANYWHERE you (OMFG) research what you're going to buy until you have the dimensions, hi-res picture, and serial number deeply traced in your mashed shit-heap of a brain! Then you know EXACTLY what you want and you can tell any salesperson who wants to "help" you to FUCK THE HELL OFF bitch. And here's the catch: IT TAKES ALL OF 10 MINTUES of GOOGLeING!

Now for my dad:

Just 40 minutes ago, I was a retard and put too much weight on my printer's paper tray, breaking the cheap little plastic nibs that held it up. I know my dad has a set of tools/equipment in the basement, but he'd just overcomplicate things. So I get ready to leave to pick up some 2-part epoxy and some plastic that I can cut to replace said nibs. Easy process, easy fix. Unfortunately, he catches me going out the door and makes a polite yet pointed farting asshole of a question as to where I'm going. Once again, I explain. He then says "Oh, you know I've got a lot of stuff in the basement! This is why I save this stuff to save money!" (Gleefully like a gay elf and a chimp came together to experiment with Paris Hilton's new perfume line) I am then figuratively dragged down to the basement and eye-raped by the huge collection of random crap and rusty tools he's been collecting over his lifetime. Luckily, there was a plastic widget that I cut up and it did the job perfectly, but aside from that it was a fucking nightmare. I received a not-so-subtle lecture on how to use epoxy (ie: "make sure you mix equal amounts" 10 seconds later: "A toothpick's good for that"). At this point, I pretty much give him the non-vulgar version "I've built high-powered rockets for NASA you bastard, I think I know how to use fuckingEPOXY!" After another high-volume exchange I gave him the "my printer, my fuckup, my fix" (I actually bought this printer with my own money). He backed off and continued his lectures, and I had to move to my bedroom and lock the door to keep him from "checking on my progress" every 5 seconds. Then my mom asked what was going on, and I filled her in on the situation. Unfortunately that involved me opening the door, which my dad used to politely shove his way into my room and my mom followed suit. Before you know it, all 3 of us are crowded around my printer, with them offering ideas that I'd already thought of and me shouting variations of "Fuck off! Bitches!". Finally I got them out of my room, and low and behold I fixed the fucker in 10 minutes! Right now I'm waiting for the epoxy to harden, but everything looks pristine. So they made the process 4x longer! ZOMFuckingG!. So I just confronted them with this and my dad gave me this smug-ass grin and said "We're just helpful people. We really like to help." As I'm typing this, I'm wondering whether to strangle him or not for that shit.

My Dad is a PhD in EE from CalTech, and my Mom has a Masters in Music from The University of Illinois! HTF did these two live? It's like their brains just turned to shit during my childhood or something! And I have so much sh!t on them from the last 3 years it's pathetic, but that's for a far more depressing rant.

Bump for the original post, as the OP decided to erase it.

:laugh::thumbsup:

 

[InflatableBuddha]

I'm noticing a trend here.

PSA:

1. Spoiled 20-something brat who lives with parents gets panties into wad over insignificant situation at home.
2. Aforementioned brat creates profanity-laced thread on ATOT to bash parents.
3. Posters appeal to brat to be rational and respectful.
4. Brat ignores advice in #3 and preserves imbecility.
5. Brat is vindictively PWNED by numerous posters.
6. Profit.
7. Brat tries to backpeddle/defend ridiculous position.
8. Repeat step 5.
9. Profit again.

If this isn't already on the wiki, it should be .

Edit: Forgot 7-9 the first time around

 

[irishScott]

Originally posted by: RadiclDreamer
Watch the little jerk try to backpeddle his way out of this and make excuses

hmmmm... and I should care about your opinion... why?

 

[Jugernot]

Originally posted by: irishScott

Originally posted by: RadiclDreamer
Watch the little jerk try to backpeddle his way out of this and make excuses

hmmmm... and I should care about your opinion... why?

If you don't care, why'd you post?

 

[lokiju]

Weak.

These are issues in life.

Try owning a house and holding a meaningful relations ship with a wife and working your ass off and then see if this crap seems like an issue at all...

 

[RadiclDreamer]

Originally posted by: irishScott

Originally posted by: RadiclDreamer
Watch the little jerk try to backpeddle his way out of this and make excuses

hmmmm... and I should care about your opinion... why?

Because unlike you, I have respect for the people who gave me a roof over my head, food to eat, clothes to wear, a tv to watch and games to play.

No matter how much you want to bitch and moan, your parents are the only parents you will ever have. And no matter how much to want to dog them, the fact that you are alive and have a computer and an internet connection to come here and bitch is proof that they can't be complete failures as parents.

So what if they are a bit rough around the edges? They have provided everything you need to this point. So sit down and shut up you ungrateful puke.

 

[JulesMaximus]

Link to ryansengara thread from about a year ago.

It also did not go well for the OP. :laugh:

 

[MisterJackson]

damn dude, you need some lube to go with this ownage?

 

[needalife]

lmao nub.. internet has won

 

[RadiclDreamer]

Originally posted by: needalife
lmao nub.. internet has won

What do I win?

 

[MrDudeMan]

Originally posted by: MisterJackson
damn dude, you need some lube to go with this ownage?

He can get a big jar of Astroglide at Costco i think.

 

[teclis1023]

No! I missed it! What happened?

 

[RadiclDreamer]

Originally posted by: MrDudeMan

Originally posted by: MisterJackson
damn dude, you need some lube to go with this ownage?

He can get a big jar of Astroglide at Costco i think.

I really dont want to know how you know this....

/me backs away slowly

 

[Turin39789]

Originally posted by: teclis1023
No! I missed it! What happened?

n00b. Try reading. It's necessary for the interwebs.

 

[RadiclDreamer]

Originally posted by: teclis1023
No! I missed it! What happened?

Cliffs:

1. Punk decides to throw tantrum because his parents weren't bowing to his every whim
2. Punk gets pwn3d by me and others
3. Punk edits his post and tries to backpeddle and do damage control
4. Someone quotes his original rant
5. Punk tries to brush it off and justify his bratty attitude (hint: wasnt hugged enough)
6. More pwnage
7. Thread goes into the gutter with comments regarding economy size lubricants

 

[SlowSpyder]

Originally posted by: teclis1023
No! I missed it! What happened?

OP decides to clean his room, his mom got the wrong bags for the vacuum. They have a Riccar vacuum, his mom got bags for a Panasonic... what a stupid b!tch! OMG! MY LIFE SUCKS!

THEN, if that's not enough to deal with in one day, OP broke the paper tray on his printer. OP wants to use epoxy to fix it (OP makes high powered rockets for NASA, he knows how to use epoxy) but his dad keeps bugging him to help him fix it.

It's easy to see why the OP has depression and sees a therapist.

 

[irishScott]

Originally posted by: RadiclDreamer

Originally posted by: irishScott

Originally posted by: RadiclDreamer
Watch the little jerk try to backpeddle his way out of this and make excuses

hmmmm... and I should care about your opinion... why?

Because unlike you, I have respect for the people who gave me a roof over my head, food to eat, clothes to wear, a tv to watch and games to play.

No matter how much you want to bitch and moan, your parents are the only parents you will ever have. And no matter how much to want to dog them, the fact that you are alive and have a computer and an internet connection to come here and bitch is proof that they can't be complete failures as parents.

So what if they are a bit rough around the edges? They have provided everything you need to this point. So sit down and shut up you ungrateful puke.

Have you ever been on suicide watch for your mom because of your dad's chronic verbal abuse and because she was on enough narcotic pain-killers to kill a horse (literally)? Have you ever had to endure listening to your parents scream at each other for 3 years 24/7, trying to stay out of it, but hearing it through the walls and knowing that you cannot stop it? Not to mention the fact that you don't have enough money to move out, and no time for a job? (I was involved in EVERYTHING in HS trying to get out of the house). And that's about 2% of what I've got.

Think what you want, but you have no right to insult me on this. I'm grateful for what they've provided me with, but my anger far outweighs my gratefulness. And with good reason.