We’re all having a Summer Holiday

December 23rd. Finished work at 2pm. Drinks in Amanda’s office for her last day. Jeremy was already putting his name on the door. We ran out of liquor. Then we ran out of the vodka I fetched from my office’s freezer. We went to someone’s house via the dairy for more wine. I’m not entiiiiiirely sure who’s house it was. I ordered pizza off our work tab and of course didn’t realise it was actually my client I was talking to until it was too late and I’d already embarrassed myself. Everyone made a big deal about thanking me. We trekked down to Lambton Quay and then up to The Big Kumara. It was 10pm by that stage and so I peeled myself off from the group and cabbed home.

December 24th
Death on a stick. Nevertheless I managed to scrub both bathrooms and shop for Xmas Food and feel like dying some more. Drinking with workmates never ends well.

Christmas Day
Mum and Neil showed up just before 11am which made me tetchy cos I was still washing dishes, and dropped off a trestle table and a whole bunch’o food. Mum went off to pick up Anji&Richard and Karen, and then we proceeded to eat (crossaints, bread rolls, pear brandy champagne cocktails) and eat (nibbly bits) and eat (more nibbly bits) and open presents and eat and drink. Anji and Richard left sometiem around 6, so the rest of us ate some more, then watched Shorters (stupid getting teary-eyed at weddings) and then ate dinner – which was just a beef fillet salad. And we drank some more and drank some more and Mum read aloud all of the book Karen had given me – The Pirates! In An Adventure with Scientists – which is quite possibly THE BEST BOOK EVER WRITTEN and it had us thumping the table and yelling “HAM!” and “RUM!” and “ARRRRRR!” and “GROG!” and “HAM!” and occasionally a foray into “BRAINS!” when zombies were mentioned. It was all great. Until about 1am when I got really sick, of course. Stupid fucking blue cheese.

Boxing Day
Still blue-cheesed to death. I had an awful lot of dishes to do by myself. Sigh. I made myself feel better by reading slash and feeling glad that I’m not the type of loser who writes it. Then I felt worse because I realised I’d just been reading slash for a couple of hours.

Sunshine! Swimsuit! Corona! Avocado! Reading! Yeah. Bored now. I want someone to play with.

PS: if you’re one of the few hubrettes who received xmas giftie from me but who hasn’t had the charm and decency to say thank you, well you’re still fucking welcome, and I hope you had a fucking choice-ass xmas anyway. You fucking rude sods.

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