Agita! In Living Color.

Italians have this word we use for certain occasions. It's "agita." If you've never heard it, you've either been under your rock too long, or have never seen an episode of the Sopranos. So, if you don't know what it means, the next sentence should sum it up pretty well.

I took my mother shopping for a new television.



Okay, so here's how it started. A couple weeks ago, I got a desperate phone call from my mother, in the middle of my work day. She sounded very upset. I had thought that maybe someone died or she was sick or anything other than the fact that her TV picture had lost color. Maybe one of my brothers had an accident, or her roof caved in. Anything. But not that her color TV was now black and white. Stop the presses! Call the fire department! Dial 911! All My Children is monochromatic! And thus, her world stopped. Life suddenly came to a screeching halt. Nothing in the entire universe would matter now that my mother's television set HAD LOST IT'S ABILITY TO PROJECT IMAGES IN COLOR!

At first, she blamed the cable guy who recently installed a new cable box. Once I assured her that cable would not affect the color of the set, she put that idea away in her mind, until she was ready to mention it again on the next distressed phone call and the next. She asked if she should call a TV repairman. Now, in my mind, a TV repairman in this day and age is like the Fuller Brush Man showing up at your door, or a second anus on a fish. In other words, completely anachronistic and unnecessary. Both of my brothers told her not to get a TV repairman, because when a TV goes, it's time to get a new one. BUT some 85-year-old woman, farting dust and dying her hair blue at the hairdresser (my mother doesn't go to "salons," she goes to a woman's basement to get her hair done...every Friday.) gave her the number of a "reliable" TV repairman. Because, after all, a repairman would NEVER take advantage of a woman old enough to have banged DaVinci and living alone to boot.

So naturally, my mother listened to the logic of those who know what they're talking about. She called the TV repairman.

$95 and two visits later, the television still has no color. Too bad my brothers and I didn't tell her not to get a repairman. Oh, wait, WE DID TELL HER. So, it was time to get a new TV. And I, the single son, volunteered my services. Did I mention I'm into self-mutilation and mentally torturing myself?

TRIP #1. (Oh, yes. It took two trips. Two trips. Did I mention, it took TWO TRIPS?) I pick her up, first, carefully measuring the space in the entertainment center. She's got a 27" screen which is fine for her. Good so far, but somewhere in the back of my brain, I know that it won't all be this easy. We go to Best Buy. She is completely thrown into a dizzying whirlpool of disbelief at the prices of the flat panel TVs. No! There is no way she is spending that kind of money on a TV. Now, manufacturers are pretty friggin' smart. They know that if they convince the "U.S. consumer lemmings waving credit cards with massive debt" that the only TVs worth having are the more expensive flat panel, flat screen hi-def, high-priced sets, they can do away with the outdated monstrosities called tube sets. SO, they only make a few of these models for people not quite ready to spend a couple grand on a TV, namely me (I have a 32" tube TV that suits me fine), my mother and probably the old bat who convinced my mother to get the repairman. So, we go look at the few dinosaurs in the tube TV aisle. There's a flat screen tube TV by Best Buy's brand for $300 and a rounded tube Sanyo TV for $270. To me, both viable candidates. She's not happy. She's never heard of Insignia. I measure them. Either will fit in her entertainment center. She's still not sure. I tell her the flat screen would be perfect, and it's a better picture for a few bucks more. She's still not convinced. After all, it's a whopping $300 for a brand she hasn't heard of. She asks a sales person if there are any sales going on. Like he's going to pull a perfect 27" inch TV out of his pocket and say, "Oh, yeah, here's a top of the line Sony and it's only $25!" He looks incredulously at her and tells her that anything on sale is marked. I assure my mother that if there are any sales, Best Buy is not hiding them from us. She's worried they look too big to fit. I measure again, and assure her they will.

We go home empty handed.

After a week or so of her commenting on how she has to watch everything in black and white, and wondering if it's the new cable box, which I assure her again it isn't, I tell her we'll go shopping again. Did I mention I also like anal fissures and drill bits shoved in my ears?

TRIP #2. (Yeah, two trips. I said that before didn't I? Two trips...)I picked up my mom and we drove over to Jersey to first visit the Best Buy there. She is completely thrown into a dizzying whirlpool of disbelief at the prices of the flat panel TVs. No! There is no way she is spending that kind of money on a TV. Wait, didn't I already say that in the Trip #1 story? YES! But that trip was a week or so earlier. Surely, the prices on those flat panels wouldn't be as ludicrous as before. Surely, they would have dropped hundreds of dollars. Surely, she's a 70-year-old woman who heeds the advice of living fossils in basements turned into beauty parlors. Anyway, Best Buy in New Jersey has the same two TVs as the one in Philly. Still, she's not sure. There must be some TV out there better. Maybe we should look to the skies and follow the star. We'll find the perfect TV somewhere in a manger.

So we head over to Circuit City. She is completely thrown into a dizzying whirlpool of disbelief at the prices of the flat panel TVs. Yes, I needed to repeat that again, because it's exactly what I fucking heard. It's all part of the experience, you see. Oh, and by the way, I had taken a laxative the night before, due to a little constipation I had been having. So in between the TV discussions, I'm running to the bathroom with the squirts. Somehow, it all made sense. Shopping for a TV for my mother and stomach distress. Yeah, all good.

Well, she's not impressed with the selection at Circuit City. Of the massive collection of two tube TVs they have, only one is a brand she recognizes, and she's worried it won't fit into her entertainment center. Oh shit. I forgot the dimensions. I forgot a tape measure. Suddenly, I'm in full panic mode. Oh dear sweet Lord baby Jesus, my world is collapsing around me. I can't measure it to assure her that either one of these will fit. They will FIT!

My mind is slowly disintegrating into a powdered substance. "Let's go back to Best Buy and get the $300 flat screen tube TV," I say. She's not sure it will fit and she doesn't know the brand. She's almost in tears on the ride back to Best Buy. I'm not kidding. She's crying over the decision to buy a $300 TV. I assure her it will fit, because it's the SAME TV I MEASURED THE WEEK BEFORE! We look at it again. From every angle. I tell her this is the one, and to buy it now. She's still a bit unsure. I call my brother and tell him I think we're close to buying one and ask him to meet us at her house to help carry and hook up the TV. First, he has to assure her that it will fit. I tell him to bring a hammer. Not for the TV or the entertainment center. But to hit me on the back of the head as hard as he could.

SHE BUYS THE TV. Oh, thank you God.

If you think it's over, it's not. In the next blog, I'll tell you about hooking up the TV.

So now you know what agita means.