Remember When TVs Had One Power Switch and Two Dials?

Yeah, so I got to drool over a giant Daniel Craig last night, so I was feeling good about the new TV "system."

This afternoon, a friend was over watching the FSU/VT game with the hubs and after one look at the screen I determined that I've been ruined. "Why does that picture look all fuzzy and washed out?" I asked. "Cause it's only being shown on regular network TV" they replied. A silence fell over the room.

Will I ever view TV the same way?? Tonight it didn't look like it.

Still high from my Casino Royale experience last night, I hopped on over to Blockbuster this evening (yes I'm still living in the dark ages and haven't subscribed to Netflix yet) on a quest to begin making up for lost time on the movie front. I sauntered in the house with Little Miss Sunshine, The Good Shepard and the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie (told you I haven't seen a movie in ages) and some yummy greek food only to find strung out husband furiously punching buttons on the new remote and no picture on my precious new hunk viewing machine.

It was clear from the tilt of his baseball hat and the hair sticking straight out from the sides of his head that he had been working on this problem for some time. The edge in his voice when I inquired about the black screen told me he was once again ready to issue an edict that no one under the age of 37 was allowed to touch anything related to this new system. That's right, the TV connected to the PS3 in the family room where the boys play. Nope he doesn't want them to touch it.

Buttons continue to be pressed, the doors to the components cabinet (the only thing I picked out--cause it's furniture ya know) are opened, components are inspected and then he begins to follow the wires up from the back of the TV into the ceiling--still muttering under his breath almost as a mantra that no one (read children) should be touching "things."

I'd like to pause here to mention that NONE of my children are tall enough to reach the back of the television.

So I'm standing at the edge of the room watching husband become more maniacal with every minute that he can't solve the problem. Hotties like Johnny Depp and Matt Damon are in little boxes in my hand waiting to be drooled over, and from the couch comes this little voice as one more time I ask what happened. "I think the ghost did it." "I think the monster broke the TV."

I began to think that I would have to go back to watching my boyfriends on my little computer screen, and if we ever were able to fix the TV that I'd have to get up every time a child wanted to watch a show or play a game. And that's when I thought, is it better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all?