| Merry Christmas, there's a fucking rat in the garden. |
[25 Dec 2004|09:09am] |
Yeah, you heard me. Santa brought us on this cold hated yuletide turd of an Xmas, a big rat to scamper from the bracen and steal a small piece of wet bread. It's our first sighting ever at this house. Merry Christmas. Yes, I wearily admit, Bolb did get up to tape "The Bear" and to wear tinsel. Old habits die hard.
Oh, last night. Yes.
Six thirty drinking is a stupid start for those of us that are getting towards thirty. I'm juse not accustomed to it anymore. But we did do secret santa, the whole thing being revealed as a SHAM by the fact that most were'nt there, and Dan put a card from him in my gift. Four cans of Guiness and two Kinder Eggs. He knows me!
Poor Lyndsay wasn't there, but she was my recipitent. She was sick yesterday, so much so that she had to upchuck in a bag and put it through a window to a waiting Graham. The Bell has too many openings, I think it would have been amusing to take it to our table of six, dumping it like a blood bomb all over their fucking table, just as thanks for making us all stay about half an hour late yesterday afternoon. Pricks.
Yeah, i'm full of the spirit today.
After the santa shit, some drifted home and some stayed. I stayed with Mel while she waited for Gordon, playing a card game called "Uno", falling asleep, and watching conversations. Couldn't get drunk, so I knocked back six and a half over about five hours, not knowing whether to bang my head on the bar or weep at the depressing tedium of all of this, as a wankered Morecombe did his best to coil around Mel like a drunken snake.
So great fun, then. Christmas Day, you had better be fucking better.
Well, let's see....sixty one...eighteen cancellations. Oh yes. This should be easy. I hope to be back by about six thirty, to neck Guiness that the brilliantly thoughtful Dan got me, and cough down massive quantities of garish sweets. Merry fucking Christmas! Skeletor is you santa!
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[25 Dec 2004|10:02am] |
Oh dear god. Now that i'm twenty eight and therefore commitedly nonplussed by Christmas, Bolb takes over the dealing out. She seems to have stalled on Des, laughing at a fucking wind up mouse, whilst Des sits feebly doing......NOTHING. He's not noticed the thing, and is now sitting under the table, probably crying inside. Putting tinsel on him won't make him know what Christmas is!
Oh, what's this? A gift from Stoney? A brilliant t-shirt with Chinese lettering? Fucking ace! Things are picking up here, folks. Cheers, Stoney!
Right, number two. What we got? Some nice arm things from Stuart. Good day to you sir!
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[25 Dec 2004|10:09am] |
Coco beads from Bolb, and five rolls of chewy sweets. Nice one BOLBY! I am fully adorned now....I look a faux goth shop dummy. And I love it. This coconut bead necklace is nice. I shall wear it to work, along with this other thing that looks like wrist flames.
More gift fun; Dawnie got me a calender featuring thigh crunching Destiny's Child mistress Beyonce (always a favourite, cheers to you, miss!) and there's two books here..from mother and father! Firstly, various comic strips from magazines like Viz, and other magazines like it...and...
A book based on the Sh*tflap! I think...various cartoons featuring loveable surreal abruptly swearing Mr Tourettes.
It's Christmas time, it's a time for forcing pets to do things they don't want to. Like wear tinsel and stare at a motorized mouse. Des has had enough, he's outta here, into the garden, wreathed in sparkly cunt tinsel.
Ok, the last one...this one is from Stuart..here's a scan of the initial opening, intriguing because of this SMALL tear revealing a plant pot in green:
right, so what is it? It's...."Return of the Bunny Suicides". Ace! The plantpot contained a venus flytrap. There was a rabbit attatched to it. Thanks Stu!
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[25 Dec 2004|10:39am] |
Christmas is a time for forgetting what day it is. It's Saturday, that's it. In normal terms i'd be working twice today, however today this is not the case! You know, usually my mind is utterly focussed on work, but i've been oddly distant towards it, despite it requiring all my efforts. I'd guess this is because it's by yuletide standards pretty.....quiet.
Hooray. I'd better get moving very soon. Have a good one, you bleeding baubles. I'll possibly be on to yak at you about my merry whoreing, whatever form it may fucking take.
Bye then!
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[25 Dec 2004|06:07pm] |
A rather quiet Christmas by our standards. Until this one it was an incredible effort to get through, usually resulting in massive amounts of washing up and a six o clock finish. Not this year....it was like a normal Saturday, albiet with four courses and crackers.
We did get some lovely stuff from Aleks and Ian though. I myself have a couple of beautiful tops, and a rucksack. I'm now post Guiness and happily tired. However, I will be going to bed soon, after eating. I'm looking forward to staying in and saving money. And drinking fucking cans of stout.
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[25 Dec 2004|07:59pm] |
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Going to bed soon. I'm utterly shattered...was going to get wankered but I really can't be bothered to do it merely to sleep. Got the day off tomorrow anyway. No work until Monday, which will be a piece of piss anyway. So then...time to chill out. Cup of tea...bed. Goodnight!
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