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| Kerri Thoreson |
Complaints, grievances
Do you want to know what I hate? A lot of things, really. I was going to tell you about one thing, but then another one interrupted my thought process in complaining about the first one.
Here's the "pop culture/entertainment" angle first. I don't lend out my DVDs. Not to friends, not to family. Nobody. I just can't trust anyone with them.
Just look at the scratches DVDs you get from Netflix or from the rental store. Do people watch the DVDs, or do they play Frisbee with them? It's seriously hard to tell these days.
I have had a couple bad experiences lending out movies. For one, some people like to "borrow" movies for like three months.
"Hey Phil, did you watch that movie you borrowed from me?"
"No Tyler, I'm saving it for just before the end of the world. I really want to watch 'Apocalypse Now' at the exact moment in which it was intended."
Even when I borrow movies from family, it can take weeks for me to watch and return it. After a few months, you just pretend it's your movie and pray the lender doesn't remember.
Some people are good about returning movies promptly, but the discs don't always come back in pristine condition. I still haven't forgiven the person who dinged up my "Toy Story 2" DVD, and that was like seven years ago! Whatever you do, don't mess with Buzz Lightyear.
Seriously though, how on Earth do you scratch a DVD? They're fairly durable, and you have that convenient little box to store them in. Are you people using them as coasters? Are you confusing the disc with the dog's chew toy?
I wish I had more to say on the matter, but I just can't concentrate. I really hate scratched DVDs, but I hate smoke and carbon monoxide detectors even more.
You see, last night, while engaged in slumber, the carbon monoxide detector began to beep. It was a piercing, blood-curdling beep that could wake even the deepest of sleepers.
At first I thought I could ignore it and go back to sleep. After all, the noise was coming from all the way downstairs, and the bed was darn comfy. But the stupid carbon monoxide detector, so determined to
save my life in the event of a carbon monoxide emergency, just couldn't rely on the dying 9-V battery nestled inside.
Now don't you think the detector could function longer if it didn't have to produce that piercing beep? And why must it always die in the middle of the night?
Newer smoke detectors have this same "safety control," so in the middle of the night, when you're half asleep, it's hard to tell what stupid life-saving device is causing the ruckus.
To stop the beeping, you must completely remove the dying battery from the machine. Easy as pie in the morning, after a fresh pot of coffee. But at 3 o'clock in the morning, a baseball bat works better.
Long story short, I'm tired. The carbon monoxide machine woke me up, and I couldn't get back to sleep. I decided to watch a movie and calm myself down. I popped in my "Toy Story 2" DVD and let the voices of Tom Hanks and Tim Allen drift me back to dreamland.
Then the picture and sound froze, the result of the scratches produced seven years ago.
Never again!
Tyler Wilson can be reached at twilson@cdapress.com.
