I’m about to buy appliances in the UK. This is going to be (stupid/awful) interesting.

Sorry, but this is one thing that Americans do better. We truly are Number one! USA! USA! on this one y’all.

I have written about the superiority of American appliances before. Here. Also here. See my ‘drawings’ link above for why our appliances are so, so much better in the US.  This wonderfully hilarious link sums it up way better than I ever could.  (Bookmark that Slate article for later if you are an expat. nothing.funnier.ever.)

So. I need a new cooker. I am also buying a dryer. I am going to lose my mind. I subscribed to WHICH (Consumer Reports, UK version?) and have done research and I am ready to go for it but my priorities are WAY different to the English ones and I want to scream.

What the Brits (apparently) look for in an appliance:

1) How much gas/electricity will it use?

2) What carbon footprint?

3) How small can you make it?

NO NO NO. Nope. None of that. I do not, nor will I ever care about any of those things. NOPE. Have a seat, England. Here is what I want to know:

1) How much can I amp it up to?

2) Will it do all of the things that I want it to, and impress me with it’s massive ability to do so?

3) How big is the supersized version and when can you make it appear in my house?

Now, this clearly is not going to work. I am trying to be realistic. I need a cooker (I think that is a stove in the US) that is just less than 60 centimeters. (kill me) I need a dryer that will fit through my cupboard door (SOB) so less than 70 centimeters.

Let me rephrase that in inches just so that you Americans can be as outraged as I am. I need a stove that is less than 19 inches. Nineteen motherfucking inches. No appliance should be measured this way. OUTRAGE HAPPENS.(right?)

For you Brits: I cannot fit an Aga in my house. Oh how I wish.

Now, it has been a brilliant summer in the UK and I have had my laundry on the line and have been pleased as punch for months. My family in the US are dying about this. “WHY? A freaking clothes line? Are you insane? What year is it in England 1929?” (yes, yes it is.)

Honestly, It has been fine to just hang out the stupid laundry. But now it is not summer and I can no longer hang stuff out to ‘dry’. I need a dryer. In the UK they call these a tumble dryer. I am beginning to think that the real word for this is a tumble trier.

I knew that I wanted a vented dryer and not one of those stupid condenser dryers.

I am going to have to stop here and explain to the Americans. You know your dryer? the one that has a hose out of the back that makes the wet go away? That is ‘vented’. A condenser is one that…(take a deep breath)…you have to empty the water out of as it dries your clothes. Seriously.

So I pick out my vented dryer and WHICH says that it has a carbon footprint of ohgodwhocares and that it does not break and it dries things. Fine. I will have that one. Then I make room in my ‘cupboard’ look at the vent to make sure that i can hook up the hose. Then I get ready to order it and OH MY GOD IT DOES WHAT?!?

It vents out of the front.

Really.

Some of the reviews say that it steams up the room ‘a bit’ (Brit-speak for a LOT)

Some reviews state that it is helpful to have a dehumidifier (I forget the British word for that thing) in the room as ‘it gets a bit wet in the house during use’

NO NO NO.

OMFG England! This can not be a thing at all. (seriously if any of my UK readers have a solution, help me. I am in appliance hell.)

So…ok…maybe a condenser ‘dryer’ would be better.

I shit you not, this is one of the taglines they use to advertise this type of appliance:

“Dries clothes in under four hours”

What the everloving hell.  I could blow on a shirt and make it dry in FOUR HOURS.

See, this here is where ‘they’ get you. They make it so impossible to actually use power and energy to do things that you think; “well, fuck, i’ll just hang the laundry on the radiators!”

Carbon foot print right up the ass, right there.

The cooker? Well, I can get one that is less that 60 cm and (probably) cooks things. But I fail to see how this is going to be any better than the useless thing that heats foods that I already have.

You wanna bake cupcakes? Welp, the thing is, you need to turn the nozzle to the swirrly bit and then toggle the weeping astrisk and then turn them ’round half way through because GLOBALWARMING and…what were you cooking again? BEEP! Also, I have set your useful smoke alarm off because you are not allowed to cook.

Can someone help me buy appliances that, like, work? Is this a completely fruitless mission? Do I need my attitude adjusted so that I can buy appliances in the UK that i will not like at all serve my purpose?

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Happy Anniversary to me! No, not today, I managed to get married on 9/11

This is only funny because of cultural differences.

After many years of desperately trying to emigrate (read flee) to the England, I finally after unspeakable hardship, managed to gain the right to marry Manboy. I was so thankful and happy.

The happiest moment in my entire life is the day that I landed in England and then it rained. I was, and continue to be, so grateful that I live here.

However, after passing all of the hurdles I needed to live here in the UK, I had to marry quickly after obtaining my visa. Manboy was in charge of getting us a date to marry. He chose the earliest available day. He phoned me and told me the joyous news. I have a date! It is eleven September! We are going to be married!

You can only begin to imagine the pause before I answered. September eleventh? 9/11? We are getting married on 9/11??!??!!

Oh. OH! oh dear. It is 11/9 here and I didn’t think.

I was all FINE and agreed, of course. It was not possible to give him a massive side-eye over the phone.

Welp, it is not likely that We will ever forget our anniversary. Or if Manboy does, uh, that might not go well.

I know some of my readers were there for our understated ceremony.

Gonna be a blast this year…NO Not a Blast. Ok…going to celebrate my anniversary this year, the same as I do every year.

Love ya Manboy. Thank all of the Gods that I live in England.

It was Chav Day at Crealy today. I told a Brummie Mum; ‘God! Quiet down yo!’

It is a wonder that I survived. When this ‘girl’ turned ’round she had a neck tattoo. Her ‘Mates’ also had neck tattoos.

Listen up here, I am an American. I am Loud. But by all the got’dam hells, if you are louder than me in any given situation, you are, probably  NOT QUIET. (just sayin)

They sashayed over to me, with their rollies,

I admit to being a bit frightened.

Then I spotted Neck Tattoo Number Three,

Hey, bunny, is that an EM shirt?  *i think i flashed a gang sign or whatever. I will TAKE some fake gangsta shit. This is my Language.*

Yo, EM, what of it? You messin?

Please. (PA-leeze) please?

hey, i knew EM. I is from 12 mile.

YO DOG SUP

erm, cool cool,

At this point the girl just plops down, calls her dawgs to heal and asks, me for a light.

We share a smoke and I live to fight another day.

England, I love you. So Quaint.

Thirteen Hundred hours and I’m Torn. The Tugs release their Gliders.

Two days ago, I said that I was going to miss the summer and that I was going to miss my kids. Six weeks ago I said I was looking forward to having them for the summer.

FINALLY my kids got bored this summer. I planned this. I planned a down week where we did NOTHING and they had a schedule of three meals, tiding, and times tables. A week of our ‘normal’ before the summer. A whole week of…sameness, before school.

Now I remember why I planned this. If they go for three got’damn minutes without something spectacular happening they FUSS. OMG the fuss.

‘I’m Bored Mummy!’ is 100% met with SO?

It is not my job to entertain you. It is my job to look after you, feed you, clothe you, read to you, snuggle you, teach you, nurse you…

But is is never my job to entertain you. That, my darlings, is your job. You are a kid. I can provide you with a stimulating environment and a few toys…

You are in charge of your own fun. I do this because I can, and because you can too.

I let you fight your battles, with my ear on the door, because you can too.

I let you talk to your friends, while i am listening, because you can too.

I let you call your relations on your phone,I let you lose said phone, I let you find it again. And I let you tell me about all of it. I let you listen to me when I have a bad day…

Because you can too.

We are becoming more equal as you grow up. I am here if you ever need a hug, or an ear.

I know I have feelings. You can too.

(written in honour of Little StormBringers 10th and The White Rose’s 8th birthday)