The Remote From Hell

I couldn’t agree more with Dr. John Gray’s theory that men and women come from two different planets (Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus). After all, I am starting to believe that men (little boys) are wired from birth to be techie freaks (gadget whore is a more appropriate term for my husband). From the time Lincoln was old enough to hold something in his hand, he was reaching for our cell phones and our Logitech Harmony One remote-from-hell. He even puts the phone up to his ear and points the remote toward the TV mimicking mommy and daddy. One minute we are watching Veggie Tales and the next minute Lincoln has changed the aspect (whatever that means) and is playing Veggie Tales and America’s Next Top Model with the PIP feature (picture-in-picture for all you women readers). I will never get back all the countless minutes I spend trying to undo and fix Lincoln’s remote rookie status.

This leads me to the point of today’s blog – my husband’s remote-from-hell. Let’s just put aside all of his other gadgets (iphone, ipod, Blackberry, specialized running watch, new GPS system, portable DVD player, not to mention all of his “gotta have” police electronics). When he first saw the Logitech Harmony remote it was as if Pamela Anderson was standing in front of him topless. His eyes bugged out and a drop of drool dripped from his enormous grin. He had found the mother ship. He was home! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my husband wanted to spend $250 on a remote control. Since I thought this was the stupidest thing I had ever heard, he assured me that he would spend HIS money on this purchase (this was back when we actually had an allowance every month. My nail salon lady misses me!).

Oh this thing is going to be great, my husband promised me! Now we don’t need all of the individual remotes for the TV, cable box, VCR, DVD, stereo receiver, etc. It’s all here on this sleek phallic shaped remote. But wait…now he disappeared down into the basement leaving me alone with our children for yet another hour while he “programmed” the remote.

After programming his new toy, he tried to explain to me how it works in a confusing, mind blowing 30 minute tutorial (again, more time out of my life that I will never get back). Look, honey, if you don’t know what to do, just push this “help” button and it will walk you through the process. So, the next day I am alone in the house and just want to watch my Baby Story episode. I push “watch TV”. Some of the equipment turns on. I get sound, but no picture. I don’t even know if the TV is on because my husband has taped a piece of cardboard over the actual on/off button on the front of the TV because he doesn’t want Lincoln touching it any more. (I can hear my dad scolding me for using my toes to hit fast forward on our VCR during the Xanadu years.) Ok, so I’ll just hit the help button like he told me. I hit help. It says “Did that fix the problem?” NO! Now it asks me, “Is the TV on?” Um, I don’t think so. I hit no. Nothing happens. “Did that fix the problem?” NO! Now it asks, “Is it on video input 1?” What the hell is that? UGH! I just want to watch my show, I yell at the TV. Somehow I managed that day to figure it out before hurling the damn thing at the screen.

Later I complain to my husband, “Honey, when I want to turn the TV off after watching a DVD it turns everything off but the TV.” He says, “Yeah, you have to switch it from watch DVD to watch TV first and then it will turn everything off.” WHAT? You mean there is a problem??? Luckily, my Martian always buys the extended warranty (I thought these warranties were just another way to get your money) and so he decides to return the remote. Just when I think we are getting rid of this thing, here he comes with the newest model. It’s touch screen, he says with a twinkle in his eye. Back down to the basement he goes for another install and programming session.

Now, when we have a babysitter over (usually a grandparent) we leave instructions for the baby. You know, nuke the chicken nuggets for 30 seconds, bath time is at 5:30, bedtime is at 6:00, make sure to read his favorite book, etc. But you should see the detailed typed out little manual we have to leave for the Logitech Harmony One! I'll never forget sitting in The Melting Pot having a romantic evening when the phone rings. It says "home". Crap! My heart starts racing. Did they break the baby? Does he need medical attention? Nope. It's the remote. They were calling to ask how to raise the volume! Are you kidding me? My mom now simply asks that we please leave the TV on tuned to her favorite channel and she doesn’t go near the remote for the night.

As I am writing this, my husband just called to congratulate himself on his latest scam at our local electronics superstore (his return scams will definitely be the subject of a future blog). His new GPS system apparently does not come with an extended warranty. So he went to two stores today and found the sucker who was intimidated by his uniform, badge, and gun who manually forced the system to give him the extended warranty. Bravo, honey! My hero. Now can you please slide by home and help me with this damn remote! It’s stuck on Kathie Lee. Oh, and bring home some diapers.

Gotta go do diaper duty!