The Focal Point
Airborne electricty fried my TV. One minute it was on. The next it was not. I wept for a few seconds. Then I decided never to watch television again. It all sucks anyway. Then the DT’s started. I shook all the way to Circuit City.
People who maintain a penis will accept this: Why go for a TV that requires an entertainment center when you can buy a TV that is an entertainment center in itself? I was ready to fit 50 inches of electified goodness in the corner of my living room.
The Focal Point Police then entered the picture. The conversation went a little like this:
Me: “I’m going to buy a big ol’ TV.”
FPP: “The TV is not going to be the focal point of our living area. You’re going to buy one that fits in the armoire.”
Me: “The TV is not going to be the focal point of our living area. I’m going to buy one that fits in the armoire.”
My penis shrank by 50%. The TV shrank by a little less than that.
I put on my small penis hat yesterday and made the rounds. Circuit City, Sears, Best Buy. Back to Circuit City. Back to Best Buy. Stopped off at Planet Smoothie for a Leapin’ Lizard. Then back to Circuit City.
Tomorrow night I’m going to pick up a 32″ flat screen TV. I’m hoping it fills 99% of the armoire space, leaving just enough that I can point to the open space as a great symbol of my ability to compromise.
I hate to be crude, but I wonder how the Focal Point Police would react if somehow I ended up with a 50″ penis (some sort of ginseng root anomoly or something). You think I would hear, “The Penis is not going to be the focal point of our sleeping area. You’re going to maintain one that fits in a pair of Fruit o’ the Looms.”
I’ll leave that for discussion as I go out in search of ginseng and a Teletubbies DVD.