Where’s the F***ing Remote!?

3/02/2009

If you are anywhere near my age, you’ll remember when you were the channel changer?

“Hey, Junior! Get up and put Channel 4 on. The game starts in five minutes,” your Dad would yell.

And you’d have to get up and mosey over to the television. Click. Click. Click. And twist the dial to channel four.

Sometimes you even had to turn the fine tuner around the edge of the dial. Remember that? Or, worse yet, someone had to go up on the roof and finagle with the antenna.

“How’s this?” The voice would scream down. Your job was to relay the message to Mom.

“Still fuzzy!” She’d yell in return. Back in the day, it was always still fuzzy.

And then came cable and satellite. And we have “the clicker”. The channel changer. Or, as I call it in my house, the penis, because only the men have it.

For the last eight years we’ve let my son handle the penis. And for eight years he’s been irresponsible with it. He’s always wedging it between the sofa cushions. Hiding it. Storing it.

“Dude, don’t do that. You’ll lose the channel changer,” I said.

“I always do that,” he says.

“Yeh, and you always lose the channel changer.”

“We don’t lose it. I know where it is. I hide it so that no one can turn off my channel.”

So if the channel changer is always lost in your house, as it is in mine, maybe what you need to do is get Junior to get up and change the channel. He’ll eventually get tired and cough up the remote.

Cutting Room Floor
Sadly, one joke was edited out. Edited out by the Supreme One, the Wife-beast.

I wanted to say “… or, as I call it in my house, the penis, because only the men have it and Mommy always wants it.”

Okay. Okay. There’s more to that joke too “… Mommy always wants and complains that Daddy doesn’t know how to use it.”

There, I said it. I hope you’re happy.

There are 3 comments in this article:

  1. 3/02/2009Reid say:

    Perhaps it’s a North/South thang. because where I live, my wife is Queen of the Remote. She has literally rounded the edges and worn the numbers off the buttons on remotes. Her right thumb is twice the size of average women, and can crush small cars.

    When she’s “flippin’” it lands on each channel for perhaps 0.6 seconds. And in that time, not only can she determine what is on the channel, not only can she determine if she wants to watch it, she can determine if *I* want to watch it (the fact she is often wrong is irrelevant to her skillz).

    And then it got worse. In addition to the TV remote, there came a TiVo remote. And a DVD player remote. Soon it took a engineering degree and the eye/hand coordination of a 13 year old gamer just to get the show you wanted on the screen. *if* you could pry the remote from the World’s Strongest Thumb.

    In the end, I found the solution. Money. Money used to buy my own dang TV for my desk that only I control. My wife and I meet up to watch DVD’s at times, but otherwise we now live in entirely different TV universes.

  2. 3/02/2009BWG say:

    I’m waiting for the day they come up with the interactive brain-controlled remote, where I just think about what I want to watch and it comes on.

    Until then, I don’t watch much TV.

  3. 11/02/2009ruminator say:

    I was the “gate-boy.” :)

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