Extreme Power Tools? Extreme Cock more likely!

Today saw the commencement of Operation Cabin Bed.  My kids needed new beds and the youngest daughter wants one of these high cabin bed things with the desk and everything underneath.  So we looked into it and tried not to faint at the ridiculous price they were going for.  I know wood is expensive and all but some of the prices were crazy............ and way out of our price range!  After much discussion we figured it would be much cheaper if we could buy the timber needed and make it ourselves.  Cue the next few hours drawing and re-drawing of plans and discussing sizes and styles.  The big mistake was involving aforementioned daughter in design plans.  You'd think involving her would be the right thing to do but she has a wild imagination with big ideas that sound great in theory but she kind of forgets that we're normal people with limited skills and cashflow!  She also forgets that doing something (such as sitting in a cramped position) once or twice every so often is way different to doing something all the time.

Anyway, having looked at her current bed, considered the salvageable parts and worked out the difference between what she wants and needs, we finally came to a decision on what to do and how much timber we'd need to actually buy.  Naturally, it's not just the timber.  The right tools to do the job are a must - according to my long suffering partner anyway!  Apparently the little black and decker mouse sander we have is insufficient for such a task!  We need a proper belt sander, a planer and a power screwdriver.  We're not talking just little things - we're talking 'decent' ones!  Hmmmmmm.............. Boys and their toys come to mind!

After much searching and discovering that a 'decent' power tool can prove to be expensive, we finally came across some reasonably priced, highly recommended (if the customer reviews are to be believed) tools that would supposedly do the job.  A little shopping spree to Argos soon delivered the 'necessary' tools!  We are now the proud owners of a series of Challenge "Extreme" Tools.  Extreme? Seriously?   It would appear that certain warnings are missing from the instructions.  Warnings such as:

• Not adviseable for use by men who already have a large penis as further enlargement is unlikely.
• Only to be used by men who have the ability to say "Fuck Yeah!" on every rotation of the drill/sander/planer and really mean it.
• It is adviseable to wear a tight fitting vest and shorts when using these products to ensure the best possible performance.
• Not to be used by women.  They have knitting and wool to play with.

Huh!  Extreme?  What, they take you to the very limit do they? 

Does Sanding down a piece of wood leave you full of adrenaline rush and unable to take any more? 

Does planing down wood with a whole load of electric power leave you on the edge and in danger of falling off?

Does the act of putting in a screw leave you shaking uncontrollably?  

I think not.  Exteme?  My Arse!  They're ordinary, run of the mill electrically enhanced tools that help take the strain out of doing it by hand.  For all you men out there, looking to buy something to make life easier - They're NOT Extreme! 

Definition of extreme:

ex·treme

   /ɪkˈstrim/ Show Spelled [ik-streem] Show IPA adjective, ex·trem·er, ex·trem·est, noun adjective

1. of a character or kind farthest removed from the ordinary or average: extreme measures.

2. utmost or exceedingly great in degree: extreme joy.

3. farthest from the center or middle; outermost; endmost: the extreme limits of a town.

4. farthest, utmost, or very far in any direction: an object at the extreme point of vision.

5. exceeding the bounds of moderation: extreme fashions.

Power tools do NOT come under this category!  Deal with it!



 

Noise, Parking and Neighbours

Forgive me father for I have sinned............ It's been 4 years since my last confession............

Four years is a long time and lots of things have happened.  Too much to mention in this blog and most of it boring anyway.  But I'll give you a quick peek at some of it. 

Most noticeably is the Loons next door have gone.  They did a midnight flit and buggered off to Germany about 3 years ago.  For a few months the house lay empty and it was sheer bliss!  I could re-decorate into the early hours and make as much noise as I wanted to without complaint.  It was nice not having to listen to the shouting and screeching that invariably occurred on a daily basis.  But, eventually, the council cottoned on to the fact the house was empty.  Maybe it was the lack of rent being paid or maybe another neighbour reported it empty - who knows - but a team of workmen were sent in to re-modernise the house and clean it out.  

During this time a young couple with a kid (or was it two?) came to view the house.  Being the perfect neighbour that I obviously am, I went out to say hello and introduce myself.  They said that they had won the bid for the property and were moving in.  So, I was to get new neighbours and soon it would seem.  But, the weeks went by and nothing happened.  I never saw the young couple again.  

Come January/February time things started to happen next door.  Movement was noticed and the sounds of decorating began.  A young girl came knocking at my door apologising for the noise.  She had a young baby.  Eventually they moved in.  The first thing I noticed was the loudness of her chap.  I still don't know his name, I just call him 'Dickhead!'  He has the most amazing loud voice.  I don't think he shouts, he doesn't need to, but he's incredibly loud.  He's also shit at parking.  I don't think family life was quite for him though because he only lasted about 6 months before moving back out - presumably to the comfort of Mummy and Daddy!  The trouble is he comes back to see his kid on a far too regular basis.  And when he does we're subjected to much whooping each and every time.  I wouldn't mind so much but his 'whooping' seems to coincide with my night shifts and I'm frequently woken up by him.  He's still shit at parking too.  There are so many absent fathers around these days so how come we have to be subjected to the noisy sod who is very much present?

The kid is a pain up the arse and would appear to take after her father in terms of noise.  She's now nearly 3 years old and I have so far been subjected to crying episodes 4 or 5 times a day, banging episodes (I'm guessing of the cot against the wall) 3 times a day, currently we're on the temper tantrum stage which can be any number of times a day starting from 3.  I have never known a kid cry so much!  She's always wailing.  I may have to make a few suggestions if it carries on.  I'm sure a cattle prod would be highly effective.  It could work for the boyfriend/father too but I'm preferring a sniper rifle to take him out!  The very latest comes in the form of her learning her other neighbours name and banging on the fence shouting it continuously.  Apparently the mother appears to be deaf to this as she never stops her and it's fucking annoying!  I'm not going to tell her my name.  It's unwise.

The girl is exceptionally quiet.  I never hear a thing from her (apart from having the worlds loudest sneeze but it's few and far between so therefore forgiveable) and if she lived alone she would make the perfect neighbour.  Almost!  Whilst she is quiet she appears to have a penchant for noisy things.  Her hoover makes a right old racket as does the lawnmower.  I do believe both items are the worlds loudest machines in their category and I do wonder if it mentions this on the box they came in?  On the hoover box for instance:

• 20,000W
• Best ever suction - guaranteed to suck up anything
• 20 stage micro filter mechanism for that little bit extra
• 15 different settings ranging from bush hair to carpet
• Noise technology integration - can be heard from up to 300 miles away
• For best results, use 3 times a day, everyday

I'm sure the same things would written on the box of lawnmower too (except the use 3 times a day everyday bit.)

The worst thing is, I discovered the other week she was expecting again!  I say discovered, you couldn't really miss it.  Huge pregnancy bump kind of gave it away really.  Apparently she's due next month.  (Shows how much attention I pay to the goings on in the street!)  Oh the horror that went through me when I discovered that!  I presume it's the same father.  Will it be as noisy as the current child?  Will the father be on the scene more often?  I'm praying for it to be a boy.  If she has a boy it will mean she can apply for a 3 bedroomed house and go live elsewhere!

Other changes?  Well, my other neighbour - I call her 'The Nose' due to her incredible ability to know absolutely everything - has decided this year that to listen to her suicide music on her own isn't enough so she now has it playing (same CD, on repeat for entire day) fairly loudly so we can all enjoy it - whether we want to or not!  Don't get me wrong, I'm sure Daniel O'Donnell is a lovely bloke in person but if I have to hear his dulcet, but suicidal tones much more I think I'm going to ram that CD player so far down her fucking throat that she'll have to stick her hand up her arse to adjust the volume!  It's tiresome having to listen to that shit repeatedly.  I have no idea why she suddenly feels the need to want to play it to the street.  I, for one, didn't ask her to!

Her husband, who is normally ok, has taken to parking his car on the road.  Quite why he is suddenly doing this we're not sure.  They have a drive big enough to fit 2 cars on.  The kerb is dropped.  But every day, when he returns from wherever it is they go, he parks on the street and leaves it there.  This would be fine normally and wouldn't particularly bother me but he has a habit of parking as close as possible to our vehicles which makes manoeuvring into the space extremely difficult.  I'm sure he does it on purpose.  I'm praying for a tornado to come and take out the car and the house.  While it's doing that it can do an about turn and take out the neighbours on the other side too.  Maybe the council will decide it's too expensive to rebuild and let us claim it all as extra garden.

I have so much more to bang on about but my arse is getting numb from sitting for so long so, for now and until the next time, rant over!

Keeping the Loons Indoors!

Well I never!

We have lived here for 3 years and 5 months and at last we have discovered an amazing way of preventing our dysfunctional, loony freaks of neighbours from coming outside! You see, ever since we have lived here, we have had to put up with her screeching and bawling at her kids, at her on/off boyfriend, at her sister, at the woman down the road............... the list goes on. If that's not bad enough, we have also had our peace and quiet shattered on many a lovely, sunny, peaceful day when we have been sitting in the garden, quietly reading and enjoying what little sunshine we get in this country, by bringing her freaky looking kids out into the garden for their afternoon play hour. So many times has my dear beloved been forced indoors by her harsh, irritating voice (she's German you know) when she does her usual and orders the kids around, stopping them from being the kids that they are, preventing their normal, intellectual growth by not allowing them to do anything more than pretty much stand still. This is usually complimented by constant, repeated threats of sending them back indoors if they so much as breathe! The eventual end result is........ yes, you guessed it.......... them being taken in for their bad behaviour, usually about an hour after they've come out, hence the afternoon play hour!
But we have stopped that! Oh yes! We have discovered how! We have taken up a little back garden leisure involving a bow, a set of arrows and a target, commonly known as Archery! Indeed, we have our own bows - the real thing I may add, not some toy - that shoot arrows at a pretty nifty pace into, and through, the target with the utmost, satisfying "THWACK!"
Now, my freaky, dysfunctional neighbour, the loon that she is, with her worrying, overprotective ways, has become a tad concerned at our new-found fun. So much so that the once three foot fence separating our two homes has suddenly turned into a whopping eight footer overnight without me having to lift a finger or put my hand in my pocket! Brilliant!
If I had of known that all it would take to hide her filthy, scutty garden was a bow and set of arrows then I would have invested much sooner! Such a small price to pay for an afternoons peace I think!
And it doesn't stop there! Oh no, the fence doesn't appear to be enough of a deterrent for our wayward arrows (which I might add have never ventured any further past the target than just to the sides of the very edge, but I digress.) It appears that just the sound of us sending our arrows to the target is enough for her to disappear sharpish, as we discovered today when she came out with the dog and promptly returned indoors the moment she heard the first healthy twang of the bow! Looks like we'll have to play outside a little more often, even if only to have the bow to hand to use the minute they step out!
I'd say we have a result. Maybe I will have to start shooting from the bedroom window now, just to see how high we can get that fence put up!

That's heartbreaking!

Well, I'm heart broken. Truly, I am. The woman down the road, that would be the mother of the two previously mentioned little shits, a woman I can't stand anyway, has decided that she isn't talking to me! I'm mortified! How will I ever get through life now? Maybe I should just go and stick my head in an oven???
Allow me to explain why............................
We've just come back from our holidays. My eldest daughter decided that she wanted to bring a couple of souvenirs back for her friends at school. I don't have a problem with that. It's a lovely thought. The aforementioned souvenirs weren't expensive so why not?
What has this got to do with Mother Mong (just my little pet name for her) I hear you ask? Well, she has a soft spot for my kids. Who wouldn't? They're such darlings, obviously! Anyway, we just so happened to return home from holiday slap bang in the middle of school finishing time and as we were passing the local school, who should pull in behind us but mother mong and her two little mongs, flashing their headlights and beeping their horn in true mong style!
Now my dear eldest has some sort of strange affection for mother mong and as soon as we pulled up outside our house she announced that she wanted to give one of these souvenirs to mother mong. I was kind of irritated by this. For one, mother mong is a fully grown adult and doesn't need childish offerings. Secondly, she had bought the souvenirs for her two best friends. No mention of mother mong when she wanted to buy them. I asked her to wait until school the next day and see how she felt about it then. I told her that that way she could either give both souvenirs to her friends or keep one back for mother mong if she still felt she wanted to. At least that way no-one gets hurt. But no, she knew best and sneaked it out of the bag when I wasn't looking and gave it to mother mong. Obviousley I was annoyed at this but she'd made her decision so she would have to live with it. I told her that there was no way that she was going to take her sisters souvenir off her the next day which is what she would have tried to do.
Well, the next thing I know she has come back and told me that she'd asked for the souvenir back off mother mong so she could give it to her friend. Oh dear! This is not good. Secretly I was quite happy about the decision but I gave her a lecture anyway on how not to upset people by giving them something and then asking for it back again as this is quite rude!
I knew what would happen. A few days later my daughter infoms me that mother mong is now not speaking to me (YEEHAH!!!!) because she believes I forced my daughter to get the souvenir back off her. Tsk Tsk........... such a shame really but I will bear the brunt of this womans anger in the very real hope that she keeps it up and never speaks to me ever again! Such bliss! :-)

Sprouting Whiskers

I'm getting old! I don't mean age wise 'cos that's obvious. Well I'm hardly getting young am I? What I mean is there are the telltale signs of age appearing. Whiskers! I was paying close attention to my face this morning in the mirror. Actually I was popping a huge zit but anyway...... I noticed 3 little stubby whiskers on my chin that had to be plucked out with the tweezers. Now this isn't an uncommon occurrence for me as it appears that I have inherited the more hairy parts of my family along with many other unsightly aspects (we'll deal with those another time) but I have noticed that the frequency of these little buggers seems to be increasing. And there are more of them. I've also noticed that I'm growing a moustache. Loads of short stubby hairs growing right over my top lip. It's most unsettling. I'm still only 36! I have bad visions of how I will look when I get really old. My auntie had a moustache and a beard. It was very hard as a kid not to go up to her when she was asleep and pluck it all out. All my hair is going weird. I used to have lovely straight hair that stayed in place. Now it's got this bad frizzy curl to it. I have to straighten it after each washing. If I go out in the rain or the atmosphere is damp it just goes all frizzy and messy. The texture of it is changing too. I have plucked out some really thick, curly, pubic-like hairs recently. I think I'm growing a muff on my head!
The other thing I've noticed is how tired I seem to get these days. I've been contemplating a mid afternoon nap for a while now just to keep me going. Trouble is I sleep with my mouth open and I tend to dribble. It leaves such a mess on the pillow. Getting old is not good.
My memory isn't what it used to be either. Not that it was ever particularly good but it was considerably better than it is now. I get up and go upstairs to get something and when I have got to the top of the stairs I have forgotten what I went up there for so I'm left scratching my head in wonder as to why I am even there. I put things away safely so I will know where I put them and when I need them I can't remember where they are. So off I go looking for them and then I forget what i'm looking for and come back none the wiser. 5 minutes later I suddenly remember what it was I was looking for and the whole cycle starts again. It's hard being me! I think I need another cup of tea................

Mother's Been!

The last few days have been a bit of a trial. Not only have I been working long hours but we've also been busy in the garden and Mother's been!
I had a day off in between long hours of work on Sunday. It was lovely. I stayed in bed for the entire morning generally bumming around and reading and then I got up and spent the entire afternoon playing with plants in the garden. It was so peaceful! The birds were twittering in the trees, it was pleasantly warm and me and Mr J. were working side by side in perfect harmony putting plants in the garden, edging the borders and breaking up soil. Like I say, lovely.............................. Until Neurotic Nellie and her oddly dysfunctional family came out next door. Oh dear. They're loons. I mean, she's a nice enough person to stand and chat to for 10 minutes or so but....... well lets just say that when it comes to brains she hasn't quite developed. Bless!
Anyway, as I was saying, they all came out for their afternoon garden play. Herself, her two kids, the boyfriend, her brother, the dog and her 5 cats. They have a ritual. She kicks the ball for the dog, he stands around looking helpless (the boyfriend not the dog), the kids play in the soil, she stands barking orders at him on how to watch out for the kids and then the whole cycle repeats itself. It all adds up to glorious summer fun. Oh, did I say fun? I meant noise. Actually no, it'a all one big, loud, irritating, shoot them all dead kind of racket.
The other day a brand spanking new table, chairs and lounger set complete with matching umbrella appeared. Looks like we'll be saying goodbye to peaceful summer days and evenings then!
Yesterday Mother turned up armed with yet another Easter Egg each for the kids. I try to keep her at arms length on a permanent basis but every so often she just sneaks through when my guard is down and I always end up wishing I had of made myself very busy. Yesterday was such a day. She turns up all happy and inside I can feel one of my headaches coming on. She was dragging with her a plastic dog on wheels. Actually it wasn't really a dog it was a box to store gardening tools in that very cleverly doubles as a seat. I'm not quite sure what purpose we will use it for but I'm sure she means well. They bought us a plant or two as well. That was nice. The garden is in dire shortage of plants. The thing is, it would be a whole lot easier all round if she would just leave the gifts and go back home. I know, that sounds selfish but you haven't met mother! With the gifts come the instructions on what to do, how to do it, when to do it, what it should be done with ..................... the list goes on. You see, in her eyes I am a dumb, helpless teenager who is totally incapable of doing anything without a whole list of instructions. I will be 37 this year!
Then we get the rest of mother. She comes in the house looking hopeful for a cup of tea and a sandwich. I managed to do the tea without scolding myself and cut the sandwich with a very sharp knife that didn't come with instructions and golly gosh I didn't even cut myself! Not a nick in sight! Phew, that was a relief then! It was a tense moment!
After she had had her appetite filled she then looked at my belly, the one I mentioned earlier that has a habit of popping out over the top of my jeans. She then poked me in the afore mentioned belly with "that look". Now, I wouldn't normally mind someone doing that. I can take a joke, a hint and all the rest of it without crying but you have to bear in mind that mother is probably 3 times the size of me! Ok, I'm exagerating, she's twice the size of me. And she goes to slimming club! How dare she poke me in the stomach and act as though she is slimmer of the year. When I mentioned this she just said that she didn't have a belly like that when she was my age! I've since been scouring through the old photo's I have to check if this is true. It's difficult to say because she seems to have cunningly disguised her belly in all of them. She does look a little chunky though! I bet she did!

Pissy Weather!

It's been a quietish kind of day so far.
It's probably something to do with the fact that it's done nothing but piss it down since I bothered to shift my arse out of bed this morning. People tend to stay indoors when it's like this. I was going to go out into the garden and put all the plants in that we bought last week. I'd got it all planned and was quite looking forward to it. But, like I said, it's pissing it down so I can't. It gets me down, this weather. I'm cold as well. The kind of cold that chills right through to the bones. I'm thinking on investing in a huge big chunky jumper to cover me right down to my knees. The problem is getting hold of one. I'm tall you see so they don't usually make 'em that big. And big chunky jumpers like that aren't in fashion anymore. It's all these little dinky things that show off your belly. That's good if you have a lovely belly to show off but mine's covered in stretch marks and is a little bit flabby. It has a bad habit of popping out over the top of my jeans so I spend the whole day popping it back in. I hate seeing the little flabby bits hanging out. It's not nice. Maybe I will find someone who can knit me a huge jumper. I can knit but it would take me forever. I once knitted my ex a jumper. It took me 4 months to complete and that was knitting at speed! I have dyslexic hands you see. They can only cope with a certain speed and after that they seem to go into spasms and do what they want.
Anyway, on the good side, the two little shits haven't darkened my doorstep as of yet. The two little shits are the brats who live 5 doors down the road. Sadly they just happen to be the same age as my two little darlings. Even more sadly, my two have become friends with them. I hate them! They are the most irritating little shits I have ever come across. The youngest is a know-it-all-knows-nothing type. The sort that spouts unbelieveable bullshit in a very knowledgeable kind of way. It would be great if you could just turn a deaf ear to it all but he doesn't just tell you these things from afar. He comes and tells you a few inches from your face. I find my fists are curled very tightly by my sides when he does that. If I had nails I would dig into the flesh of my palms. It takes the most amazing amount of willpower not to punch him in the face. Trouble is, the authorities would be on to me if I did that. I wish he would bugger off and play elsewhere. I have no time for him or his brother. His brother has an annoying habit of supposedly being absolutely brilliant at every game going. At least that's what he says anyway. Of course it's just a ploy so he can have a go on the xbox/playstation game that my youngest is playing at the time. When he does finally get a go it turns out that he isn't the greatest after all. It gives me mild satisfaction watching my youngest beat him!
Anyway, that's why I call them the little shits. I'm trying to think of a more suitable name for them but I can't right now so little shits will just have to do until I can.