Anything Lime

The television that ended my marriage

Today’s equation: 2 adults + 3 hours + 1 borrowed truck + 9,000,000 lbs of annoyance = 1 perfectly good, extraordinarily heavy 50″ television in a dumpster.

What? You need more than that? Fine. Allow me to divulge.

Patrick and I made the decision that for our new apartment, we weren’t going to buy any televisions. The TV we currently have doesn’t belong to us so much as it belongs to the company that furnished our apartment. And considering Patrick shook his little money maker into the only TV we actually owned, we went hunting.

The amount we were willing to pay for a TV was $0. I know what you’re thinking, “nothing’s free.” Hmmm… if that’s the case, then I’ve gotten a great deal on 23 years worth of air and sunshine!

I sent out a message on After Hours, a feature on our company’s e-mail system that allows one person to send a message to all 300 employees in the Winter Park office. This feature is perfect if you’re looking to buy or sell something, or if you just want to find a friendly and reputable chiropractor in the greater Orlando area.

So anyway, I asked whether anyone was looking to get rid of a television. Needless to say I was thrilled when I got an overwhelming amount of responses, and two of them were particularly promising. Patrick and I agreed that we’d take a 32″ TV for our living room and a 24″ TV for our bedroom.

We borrowed our friend’s truck after work on Monday and headed to the first stop. We get there to realize that it was, in fact, a 32″ television, but only in the land where the number “32” is actually the number “50” and everything weighs 5,000 lbs. Yes, if you take a tape measure and measure straight across the screen it is 32 inches, but the proper way to measure is diagonally! Patrick and I both knew that there was no way we would get this horrid thing, which we would later come to know as “The Monolith,” into the truck let alone up the stairs to our third floor apartment without the assistance of eight “World’s Strongest Man” contestants. And, if we attempted such a feat, we would surely be killed.

This television was remarkably unlike any other television I’ve ever seen in my life. It was made entirely out of lead, coated in a plastic-like steel compound, had a cast-iron cord and every empty space around the metal tubing inside this giant thing was filled with liquid mercury. It had this sort of black aura around it, which could only mean that it had stolen the souls of all its previous owners.

I looked at Patrick and could tell that his insides began to melt the moment he placed his hand on that television. I knew because at that very moment I too had become so uncomfortable with the situation that my insides had turned into a boiling pool of gut sewage.

Instead of telling these people, “Hey, let’s NOT attempt to transport this van, eh em, I mean, this television out of this house at this time,” we just went along with it. They seemed so eager to get rid of it (should have been a clue!) that they practically put it on the truck for us. (Except it would have been impossible for them to do that alone, because it took all four of us to move that God forsaken thing!)

So anyway, we got it in the truck, and I looked at Patrick. I wasn’t crying at this point yet, but we just tried to stay as rational as possible. “We can’t actually bring this to our apartment,” I began to say before Patrick cut me off and said (appearing to be more than slightly insane) “THIRTY TWO INCHES MY ASS!”

We just drove away, trying hard to not look at the beast in the bed of the pick up. The man waved a nice goodbye to us as we pulled out, and I can only imagine the things he mumbled under his breath. Probably along the lines of, “Your problem now, bitches.”

Our lives took a horrible turn. We were so upset about this giant thing. There was no way that we could even lift this out of the truck. What the fuck were we going to do with it?! “Let’s dump it.” Patrick said. I laughed, then jabbed him in the forehead with my elbow in the heat of all the frustration.

It was as if we had been sucked into a spiraling vortex of evil the moment we touched that television. I cannot remember a time when I had such a heavy burden. And no, the pun was not intended, but it could have been because no burden in my lifetime has ever weighed that much. In fact, if you combined the weight of all my past life burdens, the burden clump wouldn’t weigh nearly as much as this horrendous sumo-wrestling boob tube machine.

We were driving around for a while and decided to call them back. “Hi, it’s me again, about the television. We’ve thought a lot about it and have realized that there is absolutely no way we’d be able to have this in our apartment without it falling through the floor and causing the deaths of the neighbors below us. I’m sorry, but our insurance just doesn’t cover accidental death of a neighbor caused by falling television. It’s just a risk we’re not in any position to take.”

They understood (not surprisingly) and told us that they did not want the death tube back in their home, and, quote “wouldn’t even care if it ended up in a dumpster.”

Patrick took this literally, begging me for what felt like decades if we could just find a place to pitch the thing. Pitch? What I meant was, find a crane to hoist this thing out of the truck and into a landfill.

I ignored him, and we continued driving toward our next destination. We stopped to pick up the next television. While the Monolith was not a 32″ television, this one certainly was. What the hell is up with people’s inability to correctly measure a friggin television?

When I got the response for this television, I was told it was sleek, had a great picture, was fairly new and had been barely used. When I met the television, I was surprised how closely it resembled a station wagon from 1978. Fairly new? Fairly new? Only when compared to glaciers and redwood trees. Come on! Wood paneling? Is this for real? I hate my life.

We loaded up the nasty television and continued on our way home. Both of us completely devastated that we had in our truck the two most God-awful televisions ever known to mankind. We cruised, unsmiling, back toward our apartment. With Monolith. And Woody. And enough hatred in our souls to go pillaging like Vikings through the city of Orlando.

After evaluating the situation, we decided that we would just try to deal with Woody. As much as we hated it, we were going to carry it into our apartment so that we wouldn’t be deprived of life’s goodness in the form of “Supernanny,” “Extreme Makeover: Home Edition” and endless “Friends” reruns.

Next we had to deal with the Monolith. We drove around looking for a Salvation Army or a Goodwill. We even considered going into a pawn shop where the hookers and drug dealers hang out. We didn’t care that one of the many wretched Orlando pawn shops was burglarized only two days before. Who could worry about that at a time like this?

“Why are the pawn shops closed at 8:30 at night?!” Patrick yelled, angrily. “Isn’t this, like, when their business starts?! We’re dumping this damn thing!”

“Ok.” I said. “That’s fine.”

I struggled with an internal battle. How can I condone throwing away a perfectly good television? Even if it is overwhelmingly bulky and gargantuan and comprised only of impossible-to-lift materials. How can I just throw away something that someone, somewhere might be able to use?

We went back and forth in a discussion about the television’s fate. Should we put it on Craig’s List so some other sucker can come and take it off of our hands? Should we wait until we can find an open Goodwill and donate it? Patrick always shot back with things like, “GOODWILL DOESN’T EVEN WANT THIS TV!” Which was actually refreshing to hear, because it was different than “I HATE HER, I HATE HIM AND I HATE THIS FUCKING TV!” which was what he had been shouting repeatedly for hours. (“Him” and “her” referring to the people who tricked us into taking their awful TV.)

Something just felt wrong and bad about dumping it, so we called the only person who we knew would support this decision. We called the queen of making all things disposable. We called Patrick’s mom. “Oh yes, sure! Throw it away!” she said. This coming from the woman who most likely threw away the urn filled with her grandmother’s ashes and the clippings from her children’s first hair cuts. Whatever.

After getting the green light, we decided to just go ahead and throw away the TV. We selected a dumpster near our old apartment, where we had driven to return the truck. I know what you’re thinking, and yes, we did consider leaving it in the truck! We also considered calling the police and saying, “A half-naked lunatic just dumped a TV into our truck! He said it was where he kept his ‘stash.’ You better come check it out. We think it’s filled with drugs or something! Oh, and make sure you bring the ENTIRE police force with you in order to confiscate this evidence.”

We pulled up to the dumpster and backed as close as we could. Miraculously, we were able to lift it just enough to get it out of the truck and onto the ground. Patrick got his closure when he placed the gigantic remote control (in proportion to the television) on top of ol’ Monolith. I, however, still felt uneasy.

It wasn’t until we were putting gas in the truck that Patrick found the cord and placed it on my lap. I was still in the presence of evil. I felt at peace when I laid that cord to rest next to Big Papa. God was I glad that was over.

We didn’t say much on the ride home. The Monolith had caused so much anguish to our lives that we decided it was best to go our separate ways. The experience had severely scarred our relationship, so I instructed him to move immediately into the guest room and to never again touch any of my things. I’ll never forgive that awful TV for ruining my life.


Trackbacks & Pingbacks

  1. My television experience: From colossal nightmare to fantasy dreamland « Anything Lime pingbacked on 10 years, 3 months ago


  1. * boomingemu says:

    That was an awesome story. I want to draw illustrations for it….if I was good at drawing, that is.

    | Reply Posted 10 years, 3 months ago
  2. * Megan Newton says:

    Wow! Wow! Wow! I do have to say that story brought a tear to my eye…a happy tear because I was laughing so hard. I’m sorry the Monolith ruined your life, and I hope you don’t have to start going to therapy because of the expereince…I also hope the post-traumatic stress is minimal.
    Anyways, your blog makes me smile….I miss you. :-)

    | Reply Posted 10 years, 3 months ago
  3. * samueltolmanmills says:

    Best blog ever. Fucking hilarious. It reminds me of my parents’ first TV that my dad and I threw out. It was a monolith AND a woody– a Monoody, or Woodlith, if you will. We took it to his work in a truck and hoisted it into a dumpster off of a truck loading platform. It didn’t even break when it fell in! That’s how freakin’ sturdy that thing was. It was kind of sad seeing it in there. I just stared into its empty, black screen… and I swear visions of Nintendo games appeared. It was as if the TV was reaching out to me, begging for one more chance.

    | Reply Posted 10 years, 3 months ago

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