My father has a hate-hate relationship with inanimate objects. His two favorite lines are, “I DON’T TAKE SHIT FROM INANIMATE OBJECTS!” and “WHAT IS YOUR MAJOR F***ING MALFUNCTION?!” which he corrupted from Full Metal Jacket. The actual line is “What is your major malfunction, numbnuts?” But that’s no good for Dad because it doesn’t have a curse word. These lines are screamed, red-faced, while banging the object profusely against a hard surface until it either breaks or works (the former usually being the case). If the object is too large to be lifted, he usually takes a hammer or mallet and bangs on the object.

We’ve all taken a whack at our DVD players or the soda machine now and then, but this is extreme. His recent expensive victims include the stereo system (twice) at his house and my sister’s tv at her house. I don’t let him touch my things, which is one reason why he prefers my sister (though he thinks I’m the responsible one). Recently, he broke the lawn mower and cannibalized it for parts because he was too pissed to try and fix it or take it in to be fixed. The fact that he can build almost any piece of complicated machinery from scratch is negated somewhat by his propensity to destroy at a pace that greatly exceeds his creations.

You know how some women marry a man just like their father? That was so not me. While dating I think I had an unconscious score card – so many curse words and temper tantrums and you’re out. I found a nice Indian boy from across the world. Saresh is very calm and I can count the number of times he’s maimed or killed an inanimate object in the past decade on one hand. For whatever reason though, he and my Dad get along famously (though he does try Saresh’s patience after a few days of close proximity). They get along better than Dad and I get along.

Dad and Saresh like to tinker in the machine shop and build things. On the RARE occasion when dad visits, he usually helps Saresh with any home improvement projects we’ve been putting off. I stay far away. The last time dad was here, they decided to replace the handrail into the basement. I’d been wanting a new rail since we moved in the house. The one we had was cheap, covered in paint splatter, and not even bolted to the wall properly. Saresh kept putting off getting one because of the cost – we wanted a nice one.

He and Dad go to Lowe’s and Saresh settles on an unfinished rail. Normally I would go to pick it out, but Dad was there, so… I would have chosen something different, but Saresh insisted we were on a tight budget concerning the handrail. He didn’t want to go over a certain cost, so we got a plain jane oak rail, which he had to finish himself. (It does still look a million times better than the old one though!)

They get the rail and take it to our SUV. Saresh had measured beforehand to make sure a rail would fit – supposedly it would. However, Murphy’s Law always screws up the best laid plans. They briefly tried this way and that way and then comes, “WHAT IS YOUR MAJOR F***ING MALFUNCTION?!” Dad jams the rail from the back with all his might… right into the windshield, cracking it completely in half horizontally. Because he can’t see at the back, he yells triumphantly, “I made it fit! I DON’T TAKE SHIT FROM INANIMATE OBJECTS!” When Saresh remains silent, Dad asks, “Is everything okay?” Uh, no!

The new windshield cost more than the handrail. We always joke about our rail like it’s extravagant because it ended up costing us twice what we had budgeted thanks to Dad’s temper.