Knoxville, Tennessee. It's a medium size city in the North-Eastern part of Tennessee, very close to the North Carolina border. I lived there for all of my life, except for what has been spent in this bustling metropolis of Salisbury. Nothing ever really happened there, at all. It was just that nothing happened to me, I suppose, more so than nothing at all happened. My mother is a Professor and the University of Tennessee and my father is a pediatric dentist. So, in the three weeks or so I've been gone, at my father's office alone, the following has happened; one of his assistants received breast implants, another one can no longer drive herself to work because she had an epileptic seizure, and the other one...watched all that shit happen.
Also, my father, to spite his age, hardly ever is sick. He has recently developed a very nasty case of pneumonia, and has been sick for over 7 days. I don't know if that means he's been feeling shitty for a week, or he has missed seven days of work. There is a very important distinction between these. If he has been feeling shitty for seven days, then that sucks. No one likes to feel bad, especially for extended periods of time. My father is very old, 74, to be exact. I'm not trying to comment on age or how anyone over 50 is useless, far from it. My dad still works 40+ hours a week, and the only time he isn't working on something is if he's asleep or watching football. If he's missed 7 days at the office, he must be dying. Armageddon could not keep my father out of his office for a week. If the Earth was a hollow rock with no life, and the only thing able to cling to existence were a few viruses, my father would wait around until those virus's kids had oral health problems, and he would then proceed to fix them. He is dedicated, some might say. This also slightly bothers me, because my father, for as long as I can remember, was a paragon of health and physical ability. He plays tennis every week, with people 10 to 15 years younger than him, and wins. He builds walls of Earth, then barriers to retain them, on weekends. He still plans to build a shed over our car park. It's as if the man is absolutely obsessed with work and efficiency. I was convinced that my father could kick anyone's ass until I was about 15 years old. Not in the "My dad could beat up your dad" sense, but actually beat the living shit out of someone that pushed him too far (by the by, he is about a non-violent as a man can get. He once shared me sentiment that I feel bad when fishing at times). Until I found out that I could out ski him, you could've told me he was bulletproof, and I'd have to see it proven that he wasn't.
On top of all that shit, his entire building had their phone wire cut, and each building was broken into, one after another. Nothing was missing from his office, which I find to be strange. If I was breaking into office buildings, I think I'd try to grab flat screen monitors, expensive tools, and the 800lb tanks of Nitrous Oxide in the back. Not to mention the copious amounts of prescription quality narcotics and painkillers, but I'm not a thief, so maybe I'm just looking at it all wrong. His large front windows were smashed, and his ADT security system destroyed.
Apparently my father is still of the belief that people simply don't stay out late. I'm about to quote him, but let me preface this. I spend the overwhelming majority of my time awake at night. I worked and practically lived at a gaming store that closed at 4am. I am loathe to leave my computer and dark little room for the outside world, and usually only did so for video games and conventions, which are both night affairs anyway. I spent time with people that worked afternoons and evenings, so they usually rolled into The Round Table about 8pm, and stayed until close. My father knows very well that I'm a night owl, and that I live an almost nocturnal life.
"Strange goings on, but it's a dangerous world out there. You would be surprised at some of the stories the ADT guy told. There must be an entire midnight culture out there after normal folks have gone to bed."
Wow dad, I never would have guessed that.
Nothing was missing from his office, which I find to be strange. If I was breaking into office buildings, I think I'd try to grab flat screen monitors, expensive tools, and the 800lb tanks of Nitrous Oxide in the back. Not to mention the copious amounts of prescription quality narcotics and painkillers, but I'm not a thief, so maybe I'm just looking at it all wrong. That's the shitty week my dad has been having. If only he would learn that F7 spell checked, then words like "anythink" and "surgrry" (yes, and oral surgeon misspelled surgery, I'm aware of the irony), then it would be much easier to forgive quotes like the one above.
I suppose now there will be a hostage crisis at the University, and they'll have to call in Delta Force or some shit, and I'll miss that too. Oh well, I'll have to subsist on the meager news rolling out of CNN and Reuters for the time being. Have a nice day B
Also, my father, to spite his age, hardly ever is sick. He has recently developed a very nasty case of pneumonia, and has been sick for over 7 days. I don't know if that means he's been feeling shitty for a week, or he has missed seven days of work. There is a very important distinction between these. If he has been feeling shitty for seven days, then that sucks. No one likes to feel bad, especially for extended periods of time. My father is very old, 74, to be exact. I'm not trying to comment on age or how anyone over 50 is useless, far from it. My dad still works 40+ hours a week, and the only time he isn't working on something is if he's asleep or watching football. If he's missed 7 days at the office, he must be dying. Armageddon could not keep my father out of his office for a week. If the Earth was a hollow rock with no life, and the only thing able to cling to existence were a few viruses, my father would wait around until those virus's kids had oral health problems, and he would then proceed to fix them. He is dedicated, some might say. This also slightly bothers me, because my father, for as long as I can remember, was a paragon of health and physical ability. He plays tennis every week, with people 10 to 15 years younger than him, and wins. He builds walls of Earth, then barriers to retain them, on weekends. He still plans to build a shed over our car park. It's as if the man is absolutely obsessed with work and efficiency. I was convinced that my father could kick anyone's ass until I was about 15 years old. Not in the "My dad could beat up your dad" sense, but actually beat the living shit out of someone that pushed him too far (by the by, he is about a non-violent as a man can get. He once shared me sentiment that I feel bad when fishing at times). Until I found out that I could out ski him, you could've told me he was bulletproof, and I'd have to see it proven that he wasn't.
On top of all that shit, his entire building had their phone wire cut, and each building was broken into, one after another. Nothing was missing from his office, which I find to be strange. If I was breaking into office buildings, I think I'd try to grab flat screen monitors, expensive tools, and the 800lb tanks of Nitrous Oxide in the back. Not to mention the copious amounts of prescription quality narcotics and painkillers, but I'm not a thief, so maybe I'm just looking at it all wrong. His large front windows were smashed, and his ADT security system destroyed.
Apparently my father is still of the belief that people simply don't stay out late. I'm about to quote him, but let me preface this. I spend the overwhelming majority of my time awake at night. I worked and practically lived at a gaming store that closed at 4am. I am loathe to leave my computer and dark little room for the outside world, and usually only did so for video games and conventions, which are both night affairs anyway. I spent time with people that worked afternoons and evenings, so they usually rolled into The Round Table about 8pm, and stayed until close. My father knows very well that I'm a night owl, and that I live an almost nocturnal life.
"Strange goings on, but it's a dangerous world out there. You would be surprised at some of the stories the ADT guy told. There must be an entire midnight culture out there after normal folks have gone to bed."
Wow dad, I never would have guessed that.
Nothing was missing from his office, which I find to be strange. If I was breaking into office buildings, I think I'd try to grab flat screen monitors, expensive tools, and the 800lb tanks of Nitrous Oxide in the back. Not to mention the copious amounts of prescription quality narcotics and painkillers, but I'm not a thief, so maybe I'm just looking at it all wrong. That's the shitty week my dad has been having. If only he would learn that F7 spell checked, then words like "anythink" and "surgrry" (yes, and oral surgeon misspelled surgery, I'm aware of the irony), then it would be much easier to forgive quotes like the one above.
I suppose now there will be a hostage crisis at the University, and they'll have to call in Delta Force or some shit, and I'll miss that too. Oh well, I'll have to subsist on the meager news rolling out of CNN and Reuters for the time being. Have a nice day B