Consumer Reports
2003-08-06, 11:02 a.m.

I am preparing to consume. On a regular day, you could rightly assume that that meant a bag of chocolate chip cookies or a large pizza. Stat.

But no. Currently I am in the market for the following consumer items:

1. New mini dv camcorder/digital camera

2. New dvd/vcr player

3. New mattress

The first of these items, the camcorder shimmy, is the direct result of me being retahhhdid and destroying my otherwise new previous recorder, so I'm not gonna parlay about this presently due to my own self-abhorrence. Thank you, please.

The new dvd/vcr player.... because my previous one is broken? Ummmmmmm, no. I have NEVER had a dvd player. Yes, Americans, I am, in fact, the last known person in the civilized world without such technology. And yes, I understand that most people in 3rd World countries even own dvd players. Meh. I'm getting around to it. I've decided, being that I now own 8 dvds that I have never watched, I will suffer to live with the times, and expect progress, performance. You understand. I will only go so far, however, as to get a combo machine, because I know that technology whirrs at the speed of light, and in 3 months, my new fancy-schmacy machinations will be as old as the Pyramids at Giza. But I don't mind. I shall embrace it for as long as I can.

But the mattress purchase. Ohhh, the mattress purchase. This, my friends, is what is boggling the mind. Why? You are so kind to ask.

Well, first you must understand, Sleep and I are lovers. She has been my mistress since as far as memory can recall. Typically, while still fuzzy with Sleep's everlasting kiss, my first thought in the morning, even since I was a wee thing, has been, "When can I nap today?" Gorgeous, I know. But true.

So, back in the day when I hated myself because I had no money, I slept on a futon. Ninety-seven chiropractors later, I moved onto a typical mattress with my then-new husband. Needless to say, because I am a whore devoted to my beloved's immense sexual appetite, we have wore this sucker OUT. Like an old horse, almost nine years of age, this baby has been ridden. to. death. Ahhhh, R.I.P., my sweet. You have served me well.

So, yeah, with every breath, it creaks like an old boat. Not to mention that when Matt isn't intentionally sleeping on top of me, he's all up in my grill, nearly causing spontaneous combustion, because the mattress sags like your gamma's titties. Loooow down. This is, in part, because for many a year Sadie thought she was entitled to her 1/2 of the bed, which meant Matt and I, for close to an eon, slept cramped to one side, thus causing the fissure. The pernt being, it's time to put her down. The bed, that is. Not the dog.

So, I'm sure you are aware, and if not, I'll kindly enlighten you, there are FIFE THOUSANT different mattress to choose from. Maybe I'm underestimating that number. The innumerable stores, the countless brands, the so-called warranties, the pillowtop vs. the plush, the NASA Memory Foam vs. the convulted foam, what the coil count is and whether they are individually wrapped or not. It's all so complicated, let me tell you.

But I have been very specific in my quest. To borrow a phrase from the immortal Bob Ross, I'm looking for a "happy little cloud." And as is my right as a consumer, I have taken it upon myself to nap for approximately 1/2 hour in any bed I am serioulsy considering. It's only fair, after all. So after searching stores A, B, and C, and trying out brands X, Y, and Z, I have wiped the drool from the pseudo-silk store-brand pillows and have come to this conclusion: Yes, I NEED a $2000 bed. I don't want it, but I am The Princess and The Pea, and the curvature of the spine doesn't lie. It's honest-to-goodness Need.

So, now that I have decided on the Simmons Beautyrest World Class Exceptionale Ultra Plush Pillowtop with 3 inches of Cumulus Foam, it should be easy, peasy, japaneasy, yes?

Ho, No No No! Before this life of leej-zure, I was in The Sales, so I know what lying, conniving, filthy bastards us salespeople are. You think that Jimmy is really doin' me any favors? Fool! Or so I says to meself.

So, now I spend hours, further tempting scoliosis, by sitting on this rickety chair and riding the world wide whoaaah in search of the Best. Possible. Price. I must find it. Not because I am cheap, per se, but because I must have The Bargain. I simply must not pay what they are asking, because I. I am a Consumer. What if I can get it for a whole $3 less? Then won't I feel the victim later when I find out this sordid little fact? Oh yes I will, I tell myself while I stay up into the wee hours of the night, searching, searching. Goggle, Yahoo, My Simon, be my minions. Work your witchy ways.

Last night, after the 8th straight night of two-a.m. searches, The Consumer crawls into bed, cold, fingers worn to the bone, back semi-crippled. And Matt rolls over, and in his slumber, mumbles, "Ima hug you down. Ima hug you right to sleep." And Sweet. Fancy. Moses. It's never felt so good. And now, I'm thinking: Meh. Maybe I don't need a new bed after all.

When next you google and get "Matthew William" under Sleep Aids, call me direct. I'll give you one hell of a deal! I swear.

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Speaking of real comsumer reports, this just in: MCI The Neighborhood can eat my bloody tampon.

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Conversly, other suppliers are timely and efficient: All dogs, even Archie, go to Heaven.