I love morning news shows. Or shall we just call them morning shows, as there is only about five minutes of news content in them. And as expected, I like them for the less than obvious reasons (come to think of it, I'm not sure what the obvious reasons are?). What amuses me to no end is how they manage to pile in a cornucopia of subjects that are all mostly frivolous and ridiculous with of course the jarring segue into the serious and newsworthy. They are of course defining what is newsworthy, not I, so that can be amusing in itself. 

The other morning for example they went from a segment where four individuals were having a friendly cook-off – whatever the hell that is - and then in mere seconds, they segued into a woman describing being gang raped after having ingested thirteen bottle of beers and two bottles of wine and then leaving with a guy she met at a club. Good god! Talk about subject whiplash that will prevent you from digesting your breakfast.

This whole clumsy segue is navigated of course by the ever trusty hosting duo – always one older and more serious or established, and the young tartlet they fired the old tartlet for (as she reached 40 and became an old hag by industry standards).  These hosts are of course the grating mix of uber peppy and unctuous earnestness. And they turn these two emotions – if you can call them that – on and off like an over eager spigot. Cooking time – PEPPY! Rape time – EARNEST! I’m thinking botox for morning show presenters is a big fat no no as their facial expressions are key to delivering these rapid fire switches in tone. It is also funny to watch them hold up their happy 'up with people' quotient for two to three hours. Some of them you can almost feel like their faces are going to crack off from smiling and preening so much.

Then of course there is the variety of subjects on these shows that can bring endless amusement. From the celebrity visits with enough unctuous sycophancy to make you need a shower – this morning they spent fifteen minutes exchanging their favorite fairy tales with an edgy pop singer; “you like Little Red Riding hood? Oh you have a dark streak you do, you naughty minx!” Seriously I may puke. To the ‘fashion’ segments that are recycled to the point of exhaustion – “how to dress for your body type, come on pear shape people let’s get excited;” to the community awareness issues – “are potholes ruining your tires and your life? Is your dentist’s office a viral hotbed? Are there potholes outside your dentist's office? Tune in this morning!”

Then of course there is the relationship between the hosts that is fun to study and pick apart – yes this is favorite past time of mine. Some of them you can just feel their mutual desire to pummel one another cause they’re so sick of each other’s voices. They exchange those looks like, ‘I can’t believe you just said that, you complete idiot.’ Of course they do this with a pasted on smile that could peel paint. Then there are the hosts that have that flirtation thing going on between them – that’s always interesting as I’m amazed they think we don’t pick this stuff up. And then of course the hosts that simply have outright disdain and apathy for one another, fueled of course by the egomaniacal older host who is pissed off because he/she has never excelled past this stupid morning show. I’m telling you, shows like this are a hotbed for a psychological study into human behavior.

Oh, sorry, I have to go! They’re about to discuss the revival and versatility of the jean shirt. Riveting stuff.

(Oh, and Ikea, I still think you s*ck).

I am filled with big-business rage today. In fact, coupled with my hormones and my ire for businesses that make it their aim in life to screw their customers, I figure I am steps away from Michael Douglas territory in "Falling Down." Don’t panic, I don’t own any guns, and at this point, I can barely walk from A to B without my lungs collapsing. But boy oh boy do you not want to cross an overheated pregnant woman who has a sick obsession with principles and justice. (Sorry but this blog today is purely selfish so I can rant to my heart's content).

Okay, I shall backtrack, as many of you, I have a feeling, will have similar stories, and isn’t it fun to vent????! So, I ordered something from Ikea. Yes, the bastion of cheap, quick, kind of vile furniture that is often so cheap you just can’t pass it up. In their defense (a moment of kindness, appreciate it Ikea Morons), I’ve been a customer of theirs for some time and have never had any major problems. But of course, as murphy’s law dictates (or is it sod's??) when one is a fragile state and feels like killing people anyway, especially men who can’t bear children and feel my pain, everything is due to go wrong. 

So back on point, I order a chest of drawers. Sounds simple enough. I’m given a date of delivery, a lovely window of ‘this is when you have to stay in your house like a rat in a cage,’ and voila, everything seems set to go. So set that I get rid of my old chest of drawers and put all our stuff in little piles on our bed awaiting it’s new home. Yes, I’m totally type A and plan ahead, wayyyy ahead.

So, the day arrives – yesterday in fact, hence why my anger is so potent – and Ikea calls me and says the drivers are running late. Okay, fine, my partner and I have arranged the day around this window (he puts things together and I sit and watch and fetch glasses of water. It's a system that works), but I can be flexible. Three hours (!!) past the appointed window time - my partner long gone -  they finally show up. The drivers of course called several times to say that they were lost, cause apparently delivery drivers do not have sat nav. Not a good start.

So I waddle down to the street to see what’s what, as from my window I can tell they all look slightly befuddled. It turns out that what I ordered is not on the truck. Genius business model I have to say: let’s charge people for delivery, make them wait for hours, and then not bring them their product. I of course stare at these delivery men with a look of the devil in my eyes and say as politely as I can, ‘Um, so where is it, and when is it going to be delivered then?’ I think I may have uttered a few McEnroe-esque ‘YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS-es at them as I waved my belly around in frustrated disbelief. In true English fashion, they looked at me and said, "Sorry luv, nothing to do with us, we’re just filling in for someone who is sick." But of course. And I’m just filling in for someone who gives a SH*T!

So off they go, and in expected fashion, I wait by the phone expecting Ikea to call back with apologies and solutions to how the situation will be rectified. What a foolish girl I am. After three phone calls to them to various departments, I finally get a woman on the phone that has about as much compassion and sympathy for the customer as a serial killer. After I explain the entire situation, and suggest that a refund on the delivery charge is the least they can do, she begins yelling at me. AT ME. And to make matters worse, she explains that the item may take another week to deliver, cause of bla bla bla excuse, but don’t worry, I won’t get charged twice for the delivery. 

UM, SERIOUSLY Ikea witch, did you actually just say that? This is where I lose my cool of course and start firing off  comments like ‘you should be ashamed of yourselves!; and how you treat your customers is criminal!’ It of course gets me nowhere as she knows that I want and need this piece of rubbish drawers, but it does make me feel a bit better that someone is victim to my wrath. I of course wake up to an email this morning telling me that after all this is sorted – an answer of when, how and if is still not given of course, I can “RIGHT” in to the complaints department. Fabulous. Stupid and useless. A great combination.

So now I sit staring at our clothing that is now populating an entire portion of our room like a refugee settlement. Even my knickers look depressed at having been evacuated from their home. And Ikea, damn you for depressing my knickers!!.....So big business with customer service departments that do NOT serve your customers, shame on you for your ineptitude and selfishness. Just another example of how society has taken a left turn into greed first, principles second. In fact, if I could carry a pitchfork and a fiery torch without having to stop to catch my breath, I would picket your offices with a news crew in tow. Not that this would do anything, but it would be a pretty funny sight.

One of my best friends is a man (funny how this almost feels like a confessional). We’ve known each other for years, having met through one of my exes – and contrary to how it usually works, we both got him in the break-up. [I am secretly convinced of course that he likes me better; I mean what's not to like]. Over the years, he has become not only one of my closest friends whom I talk to weekly, if not daily (until of course he decided France was better than England and moved away for the summer! Traitor!) but he’s as close as I’ll ever get to having a brother. Which is something someone from a family of five girls always secretly covets. In fact, if I look back on things, I’ve always had this affinity for the male friend. My best friend at five was a boy, and throughout my life, I somehow felt like something was missing if I didn’t have at least one male friend thrown in to balance out all the hormones that my female friends would bring into the mix.

The thing I always find most amusing – and pathetic really – is that even after all these years, people still question how a woman can have a male best friend - I blame the ending of 'When Harry Met Sally' for this. They give you that look like ‘oh one of you must be attracted to the other.’ Seriously, I am the last woman alive he’d look at in that way, in fact there are some days mid-cycle I’m pretty sure I remind him that celibacy and solitude are the only ways forward. And more importantly, if you're still at the stage where you can't be around other men/women - other than your partner - without being attracted to them, I'm thinking it's time for some counseling. The other comment I always get is that our respective partners must be threatened by our friendship . My response is always quite simple really, if you give your partner something to be threatened over then he or she will be. If you don’t, he won’t (and my partner rocks in the confidence department, so there).

In my opinion, I think everyone woman should have a male friend – and vice versa. The thing is, it’s one of the easiest friendships I’ve ever had. There is no drama, no beating around the bush, no histrionics. When we fight – and of course we fight, we’re man and woman, we’re genetically designed to oppose one another – I tell him he’s being a moron, he lets me know I’m being a fiery wench, and then we get on with it. On the flip side, I get the male perspective without the B.S. that goes on with being intimate with someone, and that can be incredibly refreshing, not to mention enlightening – or downright scary when you realize what indeed goes on in the male brain at times. I’m of course woman enough to admit this works both ways.

The benefit that most people overlook is that one can discuss relationships and man/woman stuff (I have been known to ask a lot of questions, but hey why not, that's what he's there for), and often it is his perspective that makes me take pause as I haven’t thought of it from that point of view before. So in fact, my partner benefits from this arrangement cause when I’m being a cow, and my male friend politely points that out, I often think, hmmm, okay maybe there is something to that – then again, if I’m in one of my stubborn moods, I tell my friend he has no clue what he is talking about and what on earth do men know! lol. Those are the days I’m pretty sure he is glad he is a man.

The other great thing about our relationship is that we often look at he world in the same strange, curious way. We can waffle on for hours about the strangest things, from how a tree looks in the park, to human behavior, to describing a trip to the post office. He’s a writer like me, so the details are everything, and the stranger the better. Plus he's a great cook, which is great as I suck, so free dinners are a big benefit of this arrangement. I suppose my point is, and I think I can speak for him as well, is that our friendship, whilst it has its moments that play into the gender differences and even take advantage of them, it eventually moves beyond that. Like any friendship it is simply about two people who relate to one another. And to me that's a rare and treasured thing, no matter how you slice it.

So forget about going to get a dog (no JT, I'm not comparing you to a dog!), I’m telling you, a male friend is a much better companion. They don’t shed, they’re good protection late at night, and you just might learn something. 

There is a couple here in London that has just made the newspapers and the reason may surprise you – then again, who knows anymore. In short, they let their son and daughter, five and eight respectively, make the one-mile journey, alone, to school in the morning by bicycles. They say it helps to teach them independence, self-confidence and responsibility and wanted their children to experience a bit of what they did when they were growing up, when things were not so regimented and structured. [On the return journey, for those keeping score, the kids are supervised]. The neighborhood is quite suburban where they live, and the kids are told to stick to the pavement the entire journey there. 

The problem is - and hence why it has been deemed newsworthy - that parents and teachers at their posh private junior school in South London don’t share the same sentiment. In fact, they have deemed the parent's decision irresponsible and dangerous and the head teacher is threatening to turn the parents over to social services. The school’s justification, as the children’s educational institution is that they are under obligation legally to consider the children’s safety and what they deem unnecessary in the risk department....now there’s a nice big, scary umbrella to stand under. What is considered too risky, and who exactly is determining this?

Can I hear the steady march of a police state a comin’?? 

Here’s the thing, times have changed, things are indeed less safe than they used to be, crime is up, cities are overpopulated, the world is coming to an end!! We’ve all been told the doom and gloom statistics over and over again. Just watch the evening news – you’ll need a drink in your hand and a bottle of sedatives. And fine, I’m so cynical, I wouldn’t let my five and eight year old out of my sight for minutes let alone a mile, especially on bikes – I know adults I wouldn’t trust riding in this city to make it to their destination alive. But the point is, these are not my children. They are not the school’s children, they have parents who have weighed up the pros and cons and feel comfortable in their decision to let these kids ride their bikes on the pavement, with helmets, to teach them responsibility. In some parts of the country/world, kids possess a lot more responsibility and independence than that, merely because they have to – whether it is due to financial constraints or a single parent household. The funny thing is, I see kids walking to school alone quite frequently, and I haven't heard the police sirens yet coming to arrest the parents.

What scares me more is that the school is reaching beyond their scope of responsibility and essentially interfering in how these children are parented. What’s next, we don’t like the outfits they are coming to school in, it’s an abuse of color, so we’re stepping in? Although come to think of it, my school did have strict clothing and jewelry rules. Okay bad example. But still, you get the idea, where does the reach of the school stop?  On their grounds, fine, make the rules. Off the grounds, politely butt out, unless you think some serious abuse is taking place. And I don’t think cycle riding falls into that category. I can just see all the busybody parents getting together to cast their opinions about this one couple that is doing this dastardly act. Trust me parents, it’s only a question of time till the microscope is turned on you (when little Jimmy finds porn, or Susie starts inhaling poppers?....Sorry, too dark??), and then you’ll be singing a different song.

I remember my school had a policy where if you were caught underage drinking anywhere in the world – in the world!!! – and they found out about it, they could enact punishment once you got back onto school grounds.  I cracked a beer open in Tokyo at age 12 (okay so I didn’t, but I wanted to) just to prove I couldn’t be strong armed by the likes of my overly eager principal. What if kids were in France, with their relatives taking a sip of amazing Bordeaux under the supervision of their parents? This is suddenly the school’s business? Sorry guys, but no cigar. I say stick to keeping Jenny and Billy from playing doctor in the school gym, keeping their eyes on their own papers, and making sure kids aren’t coming to school with weapons. And I’ll make sure little Jimmy stays off the sauce, especially when he’s on his bike. How's that for a compromise.