Bah
My truck got hit in the parking lot again last sunday. Fortunately this time it wasn't anything major...it misaligned a mirror and put what looked like a long scratch in it. Approaching my truck I saw it and started to get mad...noticed the mirror first. This is like the 3rd time something's happened to it in the last year. Called the parentals and it seems like all they heard was "truck hit" and assumed it had been smashed like when the garbage truck hit it (my mom was more level-headed about it than my dad). So they bug me to call the police, so I did, using the speed-dial on my cellphone.
The response was "it doesn't sound like a lot of damage, so we won't send someone out unless you insist"
Dad calls back about 45 minutes to an hour later and wants a status report and he goes absolutely batshit insane when I tell him about the response. Mom understands my point...it's not a big deal. I just realigned the mirror and rubbed most of the scratch out with my thumb on the spot. It's only noticeable now on like a 2-4mm X 2mm line now. I equate it to someone bumping your car with their door or a kid keying it....unless it's really bad you don't bother with the police. It wastes the time of all involved.
But my dad just wouldn't drop it. Mom kept telling him to drop it at home and finally I call on Tuesday to tell him about some cool stuff I found on-line and at the end he starts going off on a 30 minute rant about the police.
He calls the campus police chief and bugs the shit out of him, probably doing his normal pissed off verbal bullying he does when he gets the entire Redwood Forest in his ass like that (I would say stick but sometimes it seems way bigger than any stick could be). Calls me back and tells me, all triumphantly, that he called the police chief and they should be contacting me sometime this week. Great, just what I need when I'm trying to compile stuff for our group presentation and have a batch of 'quizzes' to study for. I get so mad after I hang up that I actually start to red out and have a headache for the rest of the day.
The Lieutenant that was assigned to look into it called just after I got out of my last class yesterday (wednesday) and talks to me. Say he can't find anything about me calling in the logs. Asks what number I called and I don't know off the top of my head (it's the speed-dial), so he says maybe it was the town police instead of the university police I called, which would be why they didn't dispatch an officer, because it's the university police's job to respond to on-campus stuff like that. Asks if I want to push the investigation farther or make a report and I say 'no, it's not that big a deal my dad's just being a dick'. He's like okay, if you notice any more damage give us a call.
After getting done talking to him I call mom and update her, then I check my speed-dials for my phone to see who exactly I called. Turns out I didn't call any of the Bowling Green, OH PD's, but whoever programmed the BG police number into the phone entered the Bowling Green, KY number. Probably dad and he forgot he did it as 'help' or possibly mom; because my phone was bought after I temporarily quit university; I didn't program any numbers into it but what I needed for work and family contacts. Also I know the area code off the top of my head. Another possibility is one of the guys being a jackass and reprogramming the right number to the KY one.
So in the end, my dad gets mad over what's really nothing, flies off the handle and creates a stressful situation for everyone; which wastes the police time and breaks my head for about a day and a half. The wrong number thing makes it all even more ludicrous than it was before.
In other news, if you like the style of music used in the James Bond intros, check out the song in the listening to field. It's just about the best Bond intro parody/tribute I've heard.