I’m sitting here filling out Christmas cards (yes, less than a week before Christmas) when I realize the cheapo cards I’ve bought have the following message on the front:
’twas the night before xmas…
Now what kind of lousy, irresponsible editor purchases freaking Christmas cards with the word “xmas” on the front?! ME. That’s who.
Christmas has me stressed beyond belief. I’ve attempted shopping at least a dozen times now, and have gotten nowhere. I’d rather have FORTY WISDOM TEETH removed than step foot in that fucking mall. I have to finish everything tomorrow. I hate that I can’t buy pretty things for myself, and I’m working so hard and getting nowhere with my finances. And yes I know there are starving kids in the world, but holy crap, I want to feel pretty sometimes. Y’know? I’m tempted to stock up on lingerie just to feel better about myself.
Speaking of lingerie, I have ex-flames crawling out of the woodwork lately. They keep sending me messages and engaging in exceptionally friendly conversation, like the Karate Kid and Skank Master. I don’t fucking get it, they want to hang out over the holidays. Guess what buds? I’m not jingling your bells, I’VE ALREADY MADE THAT CLEAR.
Time to insert some cheer into this post:
This is my devil cat, Jetson. He doesn't mind the snow frosting because his soul is consumed by fiery hell.
My mother sent me this picture she took titled "Your Christmas cake." This entirely sums up her awesomely hilarious nature.
This picture is stolen from my lovely Lil Sis. Apparently this weird puppet dude was sitting in her neighbour's car. WTF?
I’ve attended at least a million Christmas parties over the past two weeks. Great fun. My REAL office work party was on Thursday, which meant I could only get a little drunk as I had to work at 9 a.m. I crawled home at 2 a.m. after dancing an epic jig with Susie-Q at Bridie Molloy’s. We were the only two left standing. TROOPERS!
Some of my coworkers and I did go to this little hole in the wall called “The Fiddler’s Pub.” Weirdest. Thing. Ever. The place was a perfect example of an ancient bay man’s pub where old alcoholic sailors come to find prostitutes. IT WAS AWESOME.
The entire place was covered in tacky 80s Christmas decorations and the walls were adorned with weird artifacts, i.e. a bed pan, WOOD SAWS, and really old photographs. One lady was there with her German Shepherd. I started bopping to a song and one of the dirty sailors called out, “YEEEEEAHHH, SHAKE IT!” He then proceeded to do the limbo with another guy.
Last night, I attended Chef’s faculty’s Christmas party at the GeoCentre. I tried SO hard to find a giant globe to mount for Candice Does the World, but all to no avail. We had a blast though. Chef started cranking out Outkast and a bunch of other oldies, and me and my entourage basically just took over the dance floor and scared everyone off. Seriously. We were all over the place, huddled in a circle and kicking our heels up, and the next time we looked up the entire floor had cleared. So much fun.
Wearing a dress in the winter is cold. True story.
It’s been a crazy week between dealing with a massive workload, juggling a social life and coping with the worst insomnia I’ve ever encountered. Dirty Sailor is also staying with us again for a while, which generally results in us having heated Scrabble games over a Texas Mickey of Crown Royal.
So, on that note, Happy Holidays ya’ll!