Mother-in-Law saga

[Longshot]

Right, I'm cutting and pasting this from another site. It is the latest in a long line of stories from an American poster with an unbelieveably difficult MIL. These stroies are true but made all the better by the delivery style.

I'm going to try and dig up some of the older stories - they are really funny.

Anyway, hopefully, you'll enjoy this:

Who the hell is Kim Commando, and why is she telling my mother-in-law to screw with my laptop?

I posted recently about not being able to play a lot of PC games on my new laptop (long story short: my wifey saved $10 by telling the Dell guy we wouldn't be playing games on it, and now I'm probably getting a Wii for Christmas). Other than the game issue, the new laptop has worked flawlessly. I have broadband internet, wi-fi, and my own home email address for the first time. All the software works, the spyware programs seem to be doing their jobs, and Tiger Woods 2006 works great even though my chipset lacks the kung-fu to play anything else made since 2003. Despite my satisfaction with my first honest-to-god computer purchase as a 31-year-old man, my status as the universe's offical karmic "Even Steven" proved itself once again as I came home to find my MIL trying to delete files from my Windows system file.

First, some background . . .

My wife has torched every computer she has ever touched. I don't know how she does it, but her computers tend to have the same average lifespan as a WWI fighter pilot. The last two computers she's trashed, however, have mysteriously gone breasts-up shortly after my MIL "heard about" some software the wifey needed or "got an email about" some setting that needed to be changed. With the last two computers, either the wifey did exactly what her mom told her to do, or the MIL did it herself. In both cases, it did not take long for the computers to go from fully functional to doing an impression of Hal 9000 singing "Daisy".

You all know where this is going, don't you?

I come home two days ago to find my MIL sitting in front of my new laptop with the Windows system file open, squinting $40,000.00 worth of cosmetic surgery behind a $5.00 set of reading glasses she bought at Wal-Mart.

Please understand that when I get angry, I have the ability to slow down time and peer into alternate realities. Think of a cross between Neo from the "Matrix" and that squirrel from "Over the Hedge". I've always been able to do it, but I've never been able to put it to any good use. Plus, it makes me crave Diet Sprite for some reason.

Anyway, time slowed down, I see myself swipe my right hand across the MIL's left cheek, and she lifts off from the kitchen table and goes through the wall behind her. I look down to see the computer mouse pointer hovering over "OK" in a dialogue box that says "Are you sure you want to screw up your OS and spend the next 17 hours on the phone talking with 'Pete' from the Calcutta customer service branch?" I see a look of horror on my wifey's face, and I see my three-year-old laughing hysterically.

Suddenly, time catches up with me, and the MIL is still sitting behind my laptop and squinting. There are no holes in my walls, the wifey is working on a craft in the kitchen, and my kid has a strange look on her face as if to say, "Did you see that, too?" With all the composure I could muster, the following transpires:

Lawboy: "Nancy, what are you doing?"

MIL: "I heard on Commando that if you have a file named ______________, you should delete it until they send you a new patch."

Lawboy: "Who is Commando?"

MIL: "Kim Commando."

Lawboy: "Who is Kim Commando?"

MIL: (Visibly annoyed and my inquiry and apparent ignorance) "She's is a very well-thought-of radio personality. She tells you what you need to do with your computers to keep them from getting infected with spyware and stuff. She said you need to erase this particular file and disable your firewall until they release a patch."

Lawboy: "So, the firewall isn't going to work for a while?"

MIL: "Just until they release a patch."

Lawboy: "How do I get the patch?"

MIL: "You download it when it's ready."

Lawboy: "Through the broadband connection?"

MIL: (Now, really annoyed) "Yes!"

Lawboy: "With a disabled firewall?"

Suddenly, the wifey is struck with the realization that I am not merely pestering her mother and have fallen ass-backward into a good point.

Wifey: "Mom, maybe you shouldn't mess with it."

MIL: "Kim Commando says you have to do it! Your computer is exposed if you have this file!"

Lawboy: "Unless Kim Commando is going to come to my house and undo whatever crap gets done to our brand new laptop on a holiday week, please don't delete anything!"

As I am pleading with her, the MIL is still squinting, still opening files, and still clicking away at the mouse. After a few more seconds of the wifey saying "Mom!" over and over, the MIL finally says, "Oh well, it appears that you don't have the file Commando was talking about." She closes the windows and changes the subject, leaving no doubt in my mind that she would have deleted whatever file she was looking for if she had found it. Before I could unleash a verbal tirade that would have made Sam Kinison blush, my three-year-old daughter goes over to my MIL and says, "Grandma, are you being difficult?"

I am definitely this kid's father. I'm not 100% sure who the mother is, but I am definitely this kid's father.

[PowerPenguin]

:laugh: Please find more!!! Are they all computer related?

Dave

[Longshot]

:laugh: Please find more!!! Are they all computer related?

Dave


No, most of them are about Christmas holidays and stuff. They are truly priceless. We are trying to get him to string enough together and get them published.

[Longshot]

I’ve taken awhile to post this, because the Thanksgiving holiday was fairly uneventful. I say “uneventful” relatively speaking, of course, since any holiday that does not involve yours truly’s ancestry being insulted at his own dinner table could be considered “uneventful”. You get the point.

The holiday actually started over a week before Thanksgiving with my MIL’s arrival. She decided to embark on one of her quarterly fact finding missions to decide her 95-year-old mother’s fate, which resulted in the usual result: somehow, I get my ass chewed on. About 4-5 years ago, my GMIL lived in her own house about one block away from my MIL and FIL in an upscale retirement community. The GMIL did not require any special care, she cooked her own meals, and went to the doctor for check-ups and general old lady stuff every few months. About once every 2-3 weeks, my MIL would do the GMIL’s grocery shopping, and she would drive the GMIL to the doctor.

This, of course, became too much of a burden for the MIL, who preferred so spend her time shopping online for Christmas fairies made by some guy named Mark Roberts. If anyone has any questions about semi-poseable Christmas fairies and other whimsical Mark Roberts seasonal home accents, I have more answers for you than any heterosexual male on the planet since my wifey and MIL spent about two weeks littering my house with the goddamned things.

Anyway, about 4-5 years ago, the MIL allegedly decided to move the GMIL to my hometown and place her in a retirement home (non-assisted living). The alleged plan was then for the MIL and FIL to also move to my hometown so they could be close to my wifey, the GMIL, my BIL (who lives about two hours away), and my daughter. Well, the end result was that the GMIL is still here, and the MIL and FIL are still in Sun City, Georgetown, with no immediate plans to move anywhere. That, and I get the pleasure of completely rewiring a 95-year-old’s surround sound every few months when the MIL decides the decor needs to be rearranged. I wouldn’t mind so much, but the GMIL couldn’t hear Nigel Tufnel’s surround sound system turned up to 11, so I don’t see the point.

This month’s investigative fact finding mission had the stated purpose of determining whether it was time to put the GMIL in assisted living, move her back to Sun City with the MIL and FIL, or “other”. The latest inquiry was apparently launched because the GMIL is having trouble reordering her regular medication though some mail-order service (she gets 3x the meds for the price of one co-pay type of deals). I made the dumb-ass suggestion of having a locally owned pharmacy fill her prescriptions, who offered free delivery and would call with reminders to refill prescriptions.

MIL: “That would cost too much.”

Lawboy: “But it would solve the problem of needing assisted living, right?”

MIL: “Well, if you’re not concerned about your wife’s future inheritance, go ahead and let her (GMIL) waste her money on prescriptions through a local pharmacy.”

Lawboy: “OK, how about this? We don’t give her any meds at all and let nature take its course.”

Despite the fact that my suggestion was cheaper than assisted living (the first suggestion, not the “let her go without meds” suggestion), and despite the fact that I, in fact, am not concerned about my wife’s future inheritance, somehow I’m the @sshole. Plus, I still had to share my mail-order Lou Malnati’s pizza with the MIL on my birthday.

Lawboy’s karma = +1.

The “drama” for the week actually centered around whether the FIL and BIL would be gracing us with their presence for Thanksgiving. My mom was doing Thanksgiving dinner this year, and she had asked me for a headcount. The FIL and BIL were off on a fishing trip, and were not returning to the country until the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Despite putting pressure on the wifey and the MIL for a committal one way or the other, all I could get from them was a big fat “we don’t know.” I went ahead and told my mom to assume they were coming, which was followed by a call to my mom from my MIL saying they weren’t. Well, Thanksgiving Day rolled around, and by BIL finally called around 10:45 a.m. and said that he and the FIL were about 45 minutes from my house (remember, he lives two hours away). Hearing of their pending arrival, the MIL, completely serious, turns to my wifey and says, “So, what are you serving us all for lunch?” We had planned on polishing off the rest of the leftover Lou Malnati’s, but not having enough to feed seven, the wifey scrounged around and was able to throw together some fried rice and handmade egg rolls in about an hour and a half. My answer to the MIL would have been, “Whatever they bring with them,” but remember, I’m the @sshole. Plus, when I called my mom to tell her to re-expect two more for dinner, I got bitched out for springing it on her at the last second. By now, I feel like Tim Robbins waiting for Macaulay Culkin to lead me up the stairs and “into the light”. No such luck.

Dinner went surprisingly well, and we made it through another Thanksgiving without my mother pulling a knife on my father-in-law (two and counting). The BIL and FIL left immediately after dinner, and the MIL returned home the following Monday. All things considered, I figured it was a tolerable experience. That is, until I remembered that one Thanksgiving tradition still remained: I still had to put up the Christmas decorations.

The annual “mocking of the tree” had already occurred earlier in the week, when my MIL accuses the wifey of retardation based on her placement of decorative garland, so all that was left was the exterior of the house. I managed to avoid both the wifey supervising from below and the MIL allowing my daughter to play with broken glass bulbs while calling me lazy by pulling a rope-a-dope with my planned schedule. I told them both I would be doing the lights on Sunday morning, while instead actually planning on doing them on Saturday evening. The only hole in my plan was that I would only have time to start after sunset on Saturday, and I would be doing the job completely alone.

In closing, I offer the following insight as to exterior holiday decorating (seriously, if you want information about Mark Roberts’ Christmas Fairies, send me an email). The bad news about attempting a job with a 10-foot ladder that requires a 12-foot ladder that is placed in a flower bed in which your wifey recently planted tulip bulbs is that the ladder will most likely tip over with you on it. Most likely doing so more than once. The good news is that a 235-pound-man’s fall is softened considerably when he falls in a freshly dug-up flower bed. Also, when attempting a job with a 10-foot ladder that requires a 12-foot ladder on ground that slopes severely away from the house, it is better to hit the ground, roll and expend as much energy as possible before hitting the neighbor’s hedge. You know how they say that it’s better for the NASCAR drivers when the car spins wildly and throws pieces everywhere? Same concept.

[PowerPenguin]

I'd forgotten about this but I'm glad it's come back. Very funny! :laugh: I like the flower bed bit.

Dave