My father just came downstairs to tell me that he believes that I ought to apologize for being rude to him at the dinner table. Of course, I just smile and blink and inform him that I didn’t mean for him to take it in a negative way and the fact that he took it in a negative away implies that he honestly believes that what I said held some truth or else he wouldn’t have taken it the wrong way.

Let’s just say that my father is not impressed with my logic and told me that I was a horrible daughter.

Of course, since I hear that I’m a horrible daughter (horrible is interchangeable with ‘terrible’) on a frequent basis, I don’t really give it that much weight anymore. I mean, it’s so easy to take things that he tells me with a grain of salt nowadays that I really just don’t care. And then my dad comes back in like a minute to ask me how to turn on the VCR.

…

Yes, you read correctly. My father insults me and then expects me to help him with something that is incredibly simple and mundane and something that he has done probably a few thousand times before.

“Hit the ‘power’ button.. It’s the red one, at the top.”