We needed a new remote (that is a whole long other angry post) and the husband picked a very funny very large one up at Br**kstone today. When he couldn't program that one, and the Dir*ct TV guy (last thing I need google hits for) was no help, he went to the electronics store and got one in the same brand as our tiv0 receiver. He couldn't program that one either. Here is the conversation that followed his unsuccessful attempt at programming the second remote.
husband: (Enter kitchen hanging head in unmanly shame) I can't program the new remote.
clickmom: (Rolls eyes simulating a perfect teenage attitude- holds out hand, juts out hip) I'll program the remote, just give it to me.
husband: (muttering) I hate it that you can do these things better than me.
clickmom: yeah, yeah
husband: (makes the "I have a secret" smile) It's like the other day when I was locked in the garage and I couldn't get out. I was banging on the door and calling for help. No one heard me.
clickmom: (face brightens with smile of heavenly delight) When?
husband: (blushes) The other day, when I had to ask you how to raise the garage door.
clickmom: You were locked IN the garage?? (snicker snicker)
husband: Yeah. (averts gaze)
clickmom: (suppressing laughter and delighting in imagining the torturous possibilities of a husband locked IN the garage) And how did you get out?
husband: Evan came and opened the door for me.
clickmom: (screams) Evan, we need to talk.