Thursday, September 22, 2011
"Our cable subscription sucks. Chinese. More Chinese. Aaaaaand... still Chinese. Wait, this one looks Korean. Great. Dubbed and subbed in Chinese. For Confucius' sake! We have hundreds of channels, and I end up just quickly jumping from one to the other. If only these channels were boys..."
I was into one of my usual monologues. I honestly think I'm turning into a caricature of a mid-age housewife, sans the colorful duster, large hair curlers, and Swarovski crystal-embellished nail art. Hubby eventually tired of my bitching and kicked me out. I think he just wanted to watch China's answer to Mara Clara in peace.
I decided to go to one of my favorite streets, where the entire stretch is lined with local crafts. Armed with broken Chinese and Kapwa Ko Mahal Ko hand gestures, I was able to negotiate two large paintings, matching wooden frames, two huge stone statues, a delivery van, and two hunky guys to help me with my stash.
I walked into our apartment with the musclemen in tow. When they started to bring my valued purchases in, I had to help my husband pick his jaw up off the floor. I was so excited, I didn't know where best to place them. I had to ask the guys to move them around a few times. Also a great excuse for keeping the men there longer.
Hubby had a satellite dish installed.
photo from here