So I let him play and he screams for hours.
It was a briefcase.
See Caesar, Beware the tides of March!
You do it with a firing squad.
...that's where I finally had to draw the line.
Nice play.
We will be known as the rapid respuns
They call it Modem Warfare!
They only had urinals.
Christmas Eve and Christmas dinner are already spoken for, but Thanksgiving hasn't been discussed yet. Thanksgiving is usually at my father-in-law's, but my stepmother-in-law has previously hinted that she might not want to host anymore.
Wife: "I talked to [stepmother-in-law] today, and she didn't say 'boo' about Thanksgiving."
Me: "Did she say 'gobble gobble'?"
Trikeceracop
It was a briefcase.
Yes, I'm old.
Even the vending machines are out of order
... a subdued sub dude.
Press F to pay for specs.
I told her that cake duty doesn't come till after I eat the cake.
Him: "Someone on Reddit dubbed it 'Call of Duty: Kevin Spacey Edition.'"
Me: "Why not just call it 'House of CODs' ?"
The look he gave me was one of both shame and awe.
http://imgur.com/cyUymX8
Picture this.
A fancy Christmas dinner party at his new wife's opulent, sandstone estate house. Plates are being cleared from the lengthy, mahogony table that seats the fourteen well-to-do guests, the main course having just finished. All have feasted gloriously on our Christmas fare.
My Dad, playing the good host, picks up two bottles of wine, one white and one red, and proceeds to do a round of the table, chatting amiably with everyone as he circles. Those whose glasses are less than 90% full, he proceeds to top-up. I am sitting in the very centre of the long table, seated directly opposite a very well off lady in her early sixties, by the name of Margaret. My dad, having just topped off my glass, is now standing directly behind me.
This older woman, full of grace and charm, looks to my Dad and says, "Thank you so much for this glorious meal, John. It's been simply divine."
My Dad, "Not at all, Margaret, not at all. Could I charge your glass?"
Margaret, "Oh, no no, thank you. I've got the bottle in front of me!"
My Dad, quick of wit, and with a sneaky - yet charming - grin on his face, responds, "Ah, well, better that than a frontal lobotomy!"
I've never been more proud of him.
I walk into the room and my Dad says, "There's an Alzheimer's patient in his game. His name is Charlie, and he keeps getting lost."
