Friday, December 10, 2010

The Boob Tube Blunder

I love love love electronics. Specifically, I love new televisions. I'm the type of person who's always wanting to upgrade to a bigger, better television. You know those women that go see a Chippendale's show that have a little too much to drink and end up dancing on their tables throwing their underwear on stage and begging for a lapdance? That's me in Best Buy. I ogle. My eyes glaze over. Sometimes I drool. If I knew a television set would like my underoos, I might throw them at it. I'm kidding. I wouldn't throw them. 
A couple of years ago, around tax time, Chris and I decided that after we paid off my last credit card, we were going to blow use what was left over to buy a new tv with our refund. Oddly enough, it didn't take much convincing for my husband to agree that we were in dire need of a bigger, better television set.  
My husband, being the electronics guru that he is, had been looking and price shopping for several months prior to our purchase. Remarkably enough, he found the best deal on our new box o' happiness at Wal-Mart.
On the day the IRS graced us with a big ol' deposit in our checking account, we employed the services of Matthew to come along with us to help get the tv and get it hooked up. They  painstakingly measured the entertainment center and the trunk of Chris's car apparently using their own eyes as a tape measure to make sure everything would fit. (This was pre-SUV.) After the Nascar race (Hello, this is Kentucky), we all loaded up - cranky baby Grayson and all. (I told you it was a few years ago.)  
I had left my purse - along with our checkbook - at home, which was no big deal since Chris had his debit card on him.  We shopped for a few minutes grabbing chips, sodas, cookies and other essentials we would need while we gathered around our new entertainment box. We saved the best for last and headed to the electronics department to make our family complete television selection. And then we saw it. The heavens opened up and a beam of light lit up our bounty as the angels sang the "Hallelujah Chorus." Okay, so maybe I made that part up. But, nonetheless, the guy brought our glorious new tv out on of those giant awkward carts and rang it up. Chris pulled his debit card out of wallet and with a flick of his wrist, swiped the most perfect Hell-yes-I'm-buying-a-new-tv-today swipe.  The little gadget flashed and dinged and beeped. He looked back at me with a smile that seemed to say I have the best wife in the whole world. Here we are, spending money on a television set that we don't really need. That she encouraged me to buy! And then it flashed the "d" word. 
DECLINED.  
The smile was gone. It's okay. No big deal, I say. Just run it as a credit instead of debit. After a once again flawless swipe, the same message appeared again. DECLINED. Now he was scowling.
F-BOMB
Realizing too late that we had set up our debit card with a pre-set limit for a single purchase, I reached for my checkbook. Which was in my purse. Which was at home. I could see the thought processes in my husband's mind change as it went from elated to exasperated. 
MOTHER F-BOMB.
We paid for our all the other crap items, begrudgingly loaded up, and hit the road back home. Empty-handed. Except for the little Keibler elf cookies that had since lost their appeal since there was no new television to accompany them. Being the obstinate and impatient type, we figured we had come too far to have our hopes and dreams crushed by a tiny little plastic card. We would get the checkbook, go back to Wal-Mart and by god, purchase our new television that we had dreamed about. We dropped Grayson off at my mom's this time, and headed back to Wal-Mart. Again. We made our purchase uneventfully with our handy-dandy checkbook. Thank you, Lamb of Hosts.
We pushed it to the car, and readied the trunk. I watched as my husband and brother-in-law lifted it and placed it in the trunk. Except they didn't place it. Because it wouldn't fit. Not even close. Not even a little bit.
F-BOMB.  
won't say how I had anticipated this happening and had tried to convince my husband of borrowing my mom's SUV. And I also won't say he assured me over and over that "it'll fit just fine." I'm just not that type of person.  
So, there we were. The three of us. Standing in the freezing cold Wal-Mart parking lot playing engineer and attempting to get the damn tv in the damn car. 
Let me put this into perspective for you. There's my husband, his brother and me and a ginormous tv. Somehow, after a little sweet talk, baby oil and I'm assuming fairy dust, Dos MacGuyvers get the thing in the backseat which left me about 6 inches of seat left to sit on. Oh yeah...Did I mention I had just had a baby? You could see my butt from space. I squiiiished in the backseat between the tv and the door. Chris had to literally shut the door on me to keep me from falling out. On a scale of awesome, this measured just below the DVR not recording Glee and above realizing there's no toilet paper in the bathroom stall you've decided to use. We drove home, the guys unloaded,and I went to pick up G-Man. 
I had hoped that by the time I made it back home, the boob tube would be out of the box and on it's merry way to satellite connection. Instead, I watched in horror as the damn thing would not fit into the entertainment center - that, once again - my Handy Manny has measured - once again obviously using the congenital measuring tape in his eyeballs. (Perhaps we should calibrate that thing.)  A measly quarter of an inch is all we needed. Obviously frazzled by the chain of the events that had already occurred that night, Chris suggested we use the coffee table as a tv stand. Um, no. I vetoed that idea and this is probably where I made the mistake of saying something idiotic like "I thought you measured everything?! Were you using the metric side? Are you sure?" I heard him mumbling under his breath while I took the Grayson to bed. 
WHHHHIIIIIIIIRRRRRRR! What the hell is that? WHHHHIIIIIIIIRRRRRRR!  Oh no. It dawned on me that the noise had come from the living room. Panic set in and I raced through the house. MY TEE-VEE! MY PRECIOUS BABY TEE-VEE!  I rounded the corner from the kitchen like Secretariat at the Derby.  And then I saw it. Handy Manny stood in the middle of my living room floor donning a reciprocating saw. Oh. My. God.  I swear he laughed maniacally while he hacked into the top of our entertainment center.  You know that scene in Christmas Vacation where Clark uses the chainsaw to lob off the loose handrail for their stairs?  This is that moment.
"Uhhhh....."
"I got it, Stace. It's under control."
"You are sawing into furniture.  This is control? Did you even meas--  Nevermind. Do what you're gonna do."
And he did.
And it worked.
I KNOW, right? 

There have been talks of a new, bigger, better television purchase in the near future....

3 comments:

Jennifer Kelso Besowshek said...

I really really hope your next experience goes better than this one! You should probably do the measuring yourself though :) It will for sure get done that way!

Christopher said...

She makes it sound like I screwed up. The measuring of the entertainment center was perfect. The numbers on the side of the TV box were wrong.

Desiree said...

My husband and I had a simialr new TV experience, we too decided to buy a bigger better TV with our tax money. I had decided that a 42inch would be perfect for our living room but my husband being a man couldn't live with anything smaller than a 55 inch. We looked at both Paducah wal marts, Murray and Benton, all were sold out. My husband calls every Wal Mart in the Tri state area and finds one in Paris, TN. He drives the 100+ miles there and back while I'm at work and is super stoked about his purchase. I go to Benton Wal Mart after work and they have the TV we wanted. I couldn't help but laugh.