Art of noise

Our DVD player worked about as well as a chili-fed baby.

The unit was nearly six years old, and I only know that because it - along with the speakers - were a wedding present from my aunt and uncle (the latter of which was my drinking buddy in Vegas, but that's a another trip down repression road that will be saved for another day).

Last year, the Vomitter (our DVD player) prepped us for parenthood in its own plastic and silicon way. Just like a freeloader fed mashed apricots and turnips, the machine would spit back the DVD we desired to view. We'd put a movie in, and five seconds later after much whirring, clicking and grinding (in my vast electronic experience, grinding is always - ALWAYS - bad) before the unit decided it didn't want to play that movie. Apparently, the Vomitter and Wife had something in common - neither of 'em liked my movies. Pulling again from the vast electronic gizmos FAQ stored in my bean, I determined there was a complicated fix - pull out the DVD, blow into the gizmo, reset the DVD and close the tray slightly harder for it to "take." At first, the Vomitter would play the DVD on the second try, thanks to my Mr. Fix-it expertise. However, second tries turned into third tries, to fourths, fifths, ninths, 14ths until Friday night when it took us longer to get the movie going than actual viewing time.

That's when Wife charged me with an important quest. One that would reshape the Melissa family history and bring happiness to our kingdom once again. Research new movie-playing gizmos to replace the Vomitter. Doling out cash on any electronic gadget is Mardi Gras and Fourth of July all rolled into on in our household since Wife keeps our cash and credit cards in a secret underground bunker where she only knows the location and combination to enter. I have to fill out fund request reports (similar to TPS reports) to get a little green for the weekend. Questions like "How do you plan to spend $_______?" "Where do you plan to spend $_______?" And "Will strippers be handling any portion of the $_____?" Then those requests are sent to the governing board, which I assume is comprised of her and the pooches.

So, when she came home with my credit card in hand I snatched it from her fingers like a trained Dolphin and headed off to the store. Afraid I'd litter our TV room with more gadgets than just the DVD player, Wife leashed me up and accompanied me to the store. That wasn't a bad idea on her part, though, because I would have came back with more than just a DVD player. Instead of me refilling her fifth Tequila Sunrise of the morning ("because the baby is thirsty") I'd have our new robotic housekeeper/nanny, Hilda, do the dirty work - a little gift to my Snookums for pooping out our first born because I'm nothing if not all heart. Hell, if there was a electronic gizmo to adjust my nuts I'd buy that, too.

We wander into the local computer geek store and find the shaggiest 15-year-old store employee to help us find the unit we need. The home theater are is littered with other suckers like Wife and I, but we trudge on and find ourselves a kid with the constellation Orion in whiteheads pockmarking his forehead to help us. We ask him a few easy questions and he answers in a language that I'm sure only computers and various electronic gadgets can understand. I just want to part his mop-top hairdo so I can see his Red Bull drunk eyes and yell, "Quit speaking Klingon or you'll end up a dateless Halo junky who'll end up marrying your game avatar. Now speak to me like I'm 4." Geek speak pricks my ear drums and makes my sphincter pucker, and when I told the voice-cracking punk that, he dumbed down his sales spiel so I and my unborn freeloader could understand.

As it turns out, and just like the little geek said, we can't just buy the DVD player to go with our speakers. We have to buy a new system. I'm not sure why, I didn't understand what the geek was telling me, all I knew is that the unit currently on top of our TV was nothing more than an extremely large paper weight (or a weapon against home invaders that I can lift and throw it before the HI hides behind a couch).

Once again, hosed by the Japanese man. It was much easier to hate 'em when they were just bombing our boats. Now they screw us over, but we don't mind as much because we can still watch our Full House DVDs while getting jobbed.

I tried researching the best home theater systems for our us, but after reading all that electronic mumbo-jumbo my eyes went crossed and gray matter oozed out my left nostril. So with the little information I retained, I tried to glean what I could from the salesdork and the stickers on the shelves and we came away with a discounted higher end model. Discounted because the sucker came back without a box. Discount and high-end model spoke to Wife, so she snapped open her key card, checked the verification code and then handed me the credit card to buy our new DVD unit.

It took just six-and-a-half hours to install, and finally at 2 a.m. I opened the DVD tray, and played our first movie on our new system - "Raiders of the Lost Ark" - at the top volume level so folks in Prescott - 70-some-odd miles away - would wake up and think a giant boulder was barreling down the mountain aimed for their little hamlet. That's how loud this system is. I get wood just thinking about it. I got wood listening to it last night, but I think that was due to the sound vibrations causing light friction between my junk and my skivvies.

And with that, I'm heading off to test the new gizmo again with a movie that will utilize every sound and color that little processor can handle - "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer."