THE GROSSEST STORY I'VE EVER TOLD!

WARNING!  TODAY'S POST CONTAINS MATERIAL NOT SUITABLE FOR MEN AND THOSE WITH LOW TOLERANCES FOR GROSSLY FUNNY STORIES. 

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.  THAT MEANS YOU, TODD!  :)



I'm moderately certain I scared a Direct TV saleswoman back to California.

Here's how it happened:

Friday night Hubby, Peaches and I were shopping for a new TV at the local warehouse membership club store.  The TV we've owned for almost 5 years was starting to show signs of falling apart, and we'd been saving for one of those new fangled HD dealios anyway, so Friday night was the night. 

We found the model we wanted and, since you can't just buy a TV, you have to buy all sorts of props and cables and players and what not, Peaches and Hubby ran about the store whilst I stood guard over our new PRECIOUS.  The Direct TV sales person was standing there and, since I'm incapable of standing next to someone for five seconds without talking to them, I started chatting with her.

The topic of our old TV and when and where we bought it came up.  As luck would have it, I have a great...but very gross story...to go with the purchase of our last TV.  So I thought since the Direct TV person was a lady, and since we'd been chatting for about 10 minutes, we were obviously close enough friends I could share this story with her.


The Last TV we bought we had to buy during the Winter Olympics of 2006.  Our older model died in the middle of the ski jumping events and there was no way I was missing ski jumping.  So we got into our 4 door sedan and drove around to every Walmart in the area  (Because actual electronic stores are too expensive and hey, we're smart enough to get our own TV to our own house on our own.) looking for the biggest model we could afford.  Finally, we located one in a town about ten minutes from home.  It was a flat screen, but the old kind  (You know from way back in 2006 when flat screen meant the screen was flat, but the butt of the TV weighed about 65 pounds.)

Buying the TV was not a problem.  When they brought the box out...I looked at that and said, "There is no way that box is going to fit in our car."

Hubby replied, "True, but we are going to take the TV out of the box and then put it into the car."

(For the record, this is sort of how every electronics purchase we make goes.  I have yet to bring home a TV/Computer/Stereo/Microwave box.  We always leave it at the store because our car is too small to handle the big boxes.)

I had my doubts, but hey, he's a smart guy, so I followed him out of the store to the windswept frozen parking lot.  How windy was it?  Well, when we opened the box, the first thing I had to do was catch the thing foam packaging sheets that flew out of the box.  While I was chasing that, Hubby was dragging the TV, which weighed about as much as a husky third grader, out of the box (the size of said third graders' bedroom) and trying to get it into the back seat of the car. 

Yeah.  The basic rules of Geometry have to apply.  You cannot shove a TV that is four feet deep and four feet wide into a space that's...less than that.  I don't care how cushy the seat it, or how hard you shove, that TV is NOT going to fit.

Didn't stop Hubby from putting a hole in the plastic lining of the car door, however.

At this point, I stop chasing rubbish around the icy parking lot.  Hubby says he might need a bit of muscle to help.  I give it my best shot, but let's face it, I'm not much muscle in the best of circumstances.  Standing there, trying to cram a massive piece of outdated electronics into the back of a car that simply will not bend its shape to help, while Arctic winds are swirling around us...that's not when I'm at my strongest. So I went back to the the store, where no less than three slacked jawed teen male employees were standing, watching us do this  and LAUGHING.  I looked at them and said, "We need a bit of help."

Two of them couldn't stop laughing long enough to refuse me.  The third one, who must have felt sorry for me or thought I was some sort of Walmart corporate spy looking for good customer service, put on a pair of gloves and followed me back out to the iceberg where hubby was still wrestling with the car and TV.

Walmart employees at your service!

(The big box had, by this time skittered itself about a mile away on the ice.  None of us bothered to even acknowledge it was gone.)

After about ten more minutes in the frigid air, Hubby and Helper decided that the best route was to fold the passenger seat all the way back and put the TV in there...like a weird shaped older relative you have to put in the front seat.  It was all okay.  The TV was in the car, Hubby was in the car.  And I squeezed myself into the tiny space in the back seat.  And that's when I realized something very shocking...and very gross.

My maxi pad had frozen.  Solid.

I rode home, cramped in the back seat while the TV had the prime spot...and my nether regions were FREEZING because of the ice pack down there.

Ladies, ponder that for a moment.  And, as you're laughing, don't forget to breathe!

So I was telling this story to the Direct TV lady on Friday and she looked at me in horror and said, "It's gets cold enough that that can happen?"

Wait until she has to shovel her first "wet snow."

The good news from this is yes, we got a shiny new TV that's actually FLAT.  It fit in the car just fine, and I may stop reading and writing altogether because I'm in love with this thing they call HD! 

Oh, and no maxi pads were injured in the writing of this post!