IKEA PRINTING TABLE

I think it fair to say that IKEA was not in my best books this week.  I bought this table because the trestle legs (purchased as a separate item) allow you to easily raise and lower the table and tilt it at an angle.  For some bizarre reason however, the trestles do not actually connect to any of the table tops they sell, as indicated in the instructions.  To cut a long moan short (yes I can if I want!), I searched the internet and managed to find someone who had had the same problem (and probably like me, didn't own a drill to make some holes in the table top).  Apparently in the UK, IKEA secures this top with velcro!  So armed with my staple gun and a load of velcro, I have done the same thing.  It remains to be seen whether I end up with broken toes, if when I tilt the table, the whole thing falls on my foot!

Quilting Arts, Interweave and subscription hell

I want to say right out front that I am a big fan of the magazine Quilting Arts, and have purchased it whenever I could find it.  For a few years I was able to buy it from the bookstore here in Bangkok, but I had to be quick as at THB595 ($19.39/£12.14) for a $7.99 magazine, I wanted a copy that had not been well thumbed by half of Bangkok first.  Yes it was quite a hefty mark up, but I loved reading the magazine and thought it worth it, to keep up on latest trends etc.

In addition to the magazine, I have also purchased many DVDs from Interweave (the publisher of Quilting Arts), which I had shipped to friends in the US.  They either hand carried them back for me, or I collected them when I went to the US.  I have also bought Quilting Arts books and other magazines produced by Interweave.  I guess you can say I am a big fan of their products.

MEN & SNORING

It is just gone 2am and I am up writing this because YET AGAIN, I have been forced from my bed by HE TO WHOM I AM MARRIED because of his bleeping SNORING!  I am now waiting for the other room to cool down, so that I can go to sleep in there, whilst at the same time knowing that I am so mad, sleep is probably long gone.

I have three questions to ask:

1. Why do men never stop snoring?
2. Why do they always deny they have been snoring?
3. Why is it ALWAYS the woman who has to move rooms?

Yes no doubt Alan will say I snore, but never has it been so bad that it has forced him from bed at 2am in the morning, with murderous thoughts in his head.   How many times has he nudged me to shut up, only to be met with incredulous denial?  I'll tell you.  NONE, NADA, NEVER!

I am so PISSED OFF right now, that all I can think of is ways to stop this happening again.  I have therefore decided that next time he snores I am NOT going to move beds.  Instead I am going to stick a straw up his nose then superglue his nostrils and mouth closed.  That should stop the sound of those rasping snores.  

And let me tell you, if I feel then the way I feel now, I won't be looking too hard for those bloody straws!

THERE ARE THREE OF US IN THIS MARRIAGE AND IT IS GETTING RATHER CROWDED

A wife's rant about being married to a journalist.

If your journalist husband is anything like mine, he probably started out with piles of newspaper clippings (sorry, very important references) cluttering up the place, that you were eventually able to surreptitiously remove from the home unnoticed.  

Hard at work journalist, looking for more papers to save

These life or death clippings were kept in special folders, for that special moment when they would be required again.  Mine never even noticed that I had binned them.

I Know Wot I Likes And I Likes Wot I Know.

This is adding up to be the worst week of the year so far.  Why I hear you ask?  (Okay, nobody asked, but it sounds good).  This week has seen the demise of an old friend, who was very close to me and to whom I have at times, been very closely attached.  Yes, I am talking about my belt.

Now I know there are a few of you out there scratching your heads wondering why I am so upset about my belt.  Well, to elucidate.

Is That Even Legal?!

Yesterday I went for my annual check up at BNH hospital.  For those of you who do not know Thailand, it is a modern, smart hospital, used by ex-pats and Thais with some money.  They are forever promoting something or the other when I visit, and yesterday, having time on my hands, I for once actually read the posters.  Maybe I should do so more often.

You really need to read it.

 6 YEARS OLD!!!  IS SHE NUTS??!  
Surely no sane woman has a 6 year old kid chomping on her nipples.  At what age does it go onto solids?  Does he go onto formula first?  What happens in public?  Has this woman NEVER seen the Little Britain sketch of a grown man in his 30s being breast fed by his mother in public?  Come on!

But wait, it gets worse - read the small print.

SHE BREAST FED A PATIENT'S BABY!!!
Really, am I the only person creeped out by this?  What is she, wet nurse and doctor, all rolled into one? Could she not have expressed the milk?  Did she feed that baby until aged 6 too?  I think all that sucking has sucked the use of the English language right out of her along with her brains!

This is not the sort of person I want in my circle of friends.  Can you imagine going out to lunch?  She'll be grabbing passing babies and shoving them on her left boob, whilst the right is firmly stuck into her 6 year old's mouth.  YUK YUK YUK!!!  This all just sounds a bit - well you know- OFF.

For those of you who have never seen Little Britain click here and you'll know exactly what I am talking about - don't worry, it isn't porn!

Oh wow, look at those tiles man!

If my post sounds unusually chirpy, it may be because I have been glue sniffing!  Oh wow!  Just look at those colours man!  Oh, I have the munchies!  

Actually, they are working on the apartment downstairs, and are fitting new tiles.  The fumes are so strong, you just would not believe it.  I thought I would pass out in the lift.  

Maybe the workers were overpowered with fumes when they fitted the cheap, Chinese, piece of crap tiles in our kitchen (excuse the language).

Those tiles do not look like that because I never wash them.  Actually I don't ever wash them, Sam our helper does, but anyway, you know what I mean.  They are like that because they are cheap and nasty.  The glue underneath them has somehow marked the tiles.  Of course this didn't show until the kitchen (which was newly installed for us) had been used for several months.  What a waste of money.  Of course they can't be changed without a great deal of drilling up.  We also have the same tiles in our back hallway, which have also gone like this.  

There really is something to be said for not buying cheap.  I'm not sure why I think you would care about my floor tiles, but its my blog, so I can moan if I want to.

Well I guess the glue soon wore off!!!

Anyway...

I went for my walk to the supermarket and as I passed this sign for some apartments for the hundredth time I thought, I know I'll post this on the blog.  I mean, what were they thinking?!

Now, I don't want to give the name of the person that this happened to, but it wasn't me and it wasn't Alan.  

I have two friends, lets call them Tom and Jerry.  I don't know why I should call them that.  I was going to call them Frick and Frack, which I thought was the name of two cartoon chipmunks, which I thought rather cute.  However a quick and fortuitous look at Wikipedia, informed me that Americans use that as a term of derision for two people.  So Tom and Jerry they now are.  Where was I?  

Oh yes, Tom and Jerry went out to dinner last night at a French restaurant, run by a Thai chef.  It is a very 'local' place.  Tom and Jerry like to sit outside in the gutter area where the chef cooks.  Yes this really is true.  They sit there waiting for their steak, or foie gras, sipping some cheap wine and breathing in the exhaust, as yet another construction lorry manoeuvres its way past them.  Yes, they know a romantic spot when they see it.  

Tom had dessert, some sort of mousse I think.  He polished the lot off.  When the chef came past and asked was it good, Tom said great!  To prove the point he put his finger in the puddle of dessert that was sitting on the table and stuck it in his mouth.  Keeping a smile on his face, he managed to choke out: "Great".  What had he run his finger through and put so greedily in his mouth?  BIRD POOP!!!