Chinese Food, Mandarin and "Honey"

A visit to my favourite Chinese restaurant is always entertaining, not least because the proprietor is always so glad to see us, and gushes about how wonderful The Children are, but also because of the music they play.

"What sort of music would you expect to hear in a Chinese restaurant", I hear you ask? A nice bit of classical? Perhaps. Some Chinese opera? Probably not. How about some unsung digital channel that plays a constant loop of Rod Stewart, Boyz II Men, "Unchained Melody" and 50's Doo Wop? Now you're talking!

Except that last night it wasn't the usual station, and we found ourselves listening to backing tracks of easy listening songs that were familiar enough, but with a bit of a twist.... the vocals were sung in what appeared to be a high pitched squeaky chinese. "Mandarin". I was authoritatively informed by The Husband.

By the end of the meal, my nerves frazzled by the musical equivalent of nails on a blackboard, I was wondering if they could have played anything worse?

They could.

The next song started with a lush string intro, soaring soprano and the dreaded opening line, this time in english, "See the tree how big it's grown..."

In the time it took them to plant the tree, crash the car and get the puppy, we got the bill, and exited right on cue, just as the angels came.

Adventures with Bluetooth

I am the new owner of a brand new car with bluetooth capability. It means my cellphone can connect wirelessly to the bluetooth system and I can make hands-free phone calls in the car.

At least it does in theory.

Hot on the heels of successfully programming 12 radio stations into the car, the daughter and I embark on setting up the bluetooth. The salesman was kind enough to get my cellphone recognised by the bluetooth system yesterday, so all we had to do was programme in a few numbers and learn how to make and receive calls.

Either the voice recognition system was deaf or it was being awkward. I would dictate a 10 digit number, it would repeat a 14 digit one. I said "Go back". It heard zero as 4. We thought it might be xenophobic so I tried a southern accent, only to be rejected again. The daughter tried, in her best american teenspeak, but it heard "pound key" several times. We erupted into fits of raucous laughter. I hoped the neighbours weren't watching.

After 30 minutes we had our first successful number entry and had to name it.

"Home" I said.

"I'm sorry, that sounds too much like Help", it said.

"Our House", I said.

"That sounds too much like Go Back", it said.

"Go back you cretin", I said.

"Pardon", it said.

After 45 minutes we had 3 numbers in and just needed to enter the son's number, but no matter how we tried we couldn't get it to work. It would not accept "Nick", "Nicky J", "Nicky J" with the sound effect of keys crashing onto the console, or "Nicholas".

Tearing our hair out we called the son to the car. He lay down on the back seat and in his best Nate robot voice dictated first his number and then his name. We rolled our eyes. We waited for it to say something stupid, but it didn't. It just repeated the name and number perfectly and asked him to confirm.

So he will now enter all the numbers for me, and when I need to call someone I will have to lower my voice by a couple of octaves and speak like a dalek. Brill.

White Knuckle Ride

I hate driving. The only thing worse is driving with the husband in the car, or driving among the nitwits of Montgomery County.

This week "He who shall not be named" wrapped the trailblazer around a tree on the Clarksburg Road. He was fine, the car was not, and even if our insurance repairs it, we do not plan to keep it - 3 accidents in one year and 3 lucky escapes with nary a scratch, we don't want to push our luck any further.

The decision is made that I should get a new car and the kids will get to use my Tribeca. I say that I would like to stick with Subaru as they make good solid cars that perform well in the snow. I have considered getting a smaller car since transporting 2 full size cellos is no longer an issue and suggest a Forester. The husband says the Outback has been revamped and we should check that out as well. He test drives some cars in his lunch break and comes up with 2 he feels I "should like".

He says the Forester drives like a car, but is underpowered so we should drive the turbo version. The Outback drives like an SUV but has a V6 engine. Hmmmm. This terminology means nothing to me. My requirements are AWD, heated leather seats and some way of plugging the ipod into the sound system.

So I find myself in Montgomery County test driving the cars with not only the husband in the passenger seat, but the salesman in the back, on the 355 during Friday night rush hour, with the pair of them saying "pull out now, the cars a turbo" and me thinking "I'll wait 10 minutes until *I* see a gap *I* am happy with", and "why the hell didn't they choose a route where you join with a traffic light?".

White knuckle rides over, here's the female perspective on the cars.

1. No way on earth was I going to buy the turbo Forester as it had a raised lump on the bonnet that looked ridiculous and the foot pedals were metal with holes in and resembled swiss cheese. If "driving like a car" meant it felt flimsy, then it drove like a car, or more to the point, a boy racer car.

2. I felt embarassed being seen in the Outback as the test model was a shit brown. If it drove like an SUV then that I guess that is what I am used to, something big and solid. On the downside it had the ridiculous "parking brake" where you pulled a switch and pressed on the regular brake pedal to put it on, rather than having a separate foot operated or hand operated brake. I mean what is the point? I had to put my glasses on to read the switch to see if I had to push or pull to get it on or off.

3. I don't know if it is a man thing but certain "features" that the salesman touted as selling points are of no interest to me. Why would I want an automatic that I can also drive as a manual? I just want to stick the car in "drive" and go. Why would I want "cruise control"? The thought of the car moving without me having my feet on the pedals, is a scary one. Finally, if I am choosing an AWD car because of the safety benefits, why on earth would I want to be able to turn off the traction control?

Long story short, we went back yesterday and got the Outback, and I drove home in the Tribeca.