this has 666 words. fa la la la la, la la l-
Happy Holidays Everyone.
'Tis the season. Yes, Christmas
'Tis the season. Yes, Christmas
(see Christ's Mass, not 'oh cripe, I forgot to buy presents'
i.e. 'I procrastinated since October when it all started, but come on, we had Thanksgiving!'), Hanukkah,
Kwanza(a), other assorted and long dishonoured belief systems abused
by the materialistic commercial nature of humans.
Santa doesn't come for me anymore. I mean, ask your parents.The first of the month for once, not commemorated by 'PinchPunchFirstOfTheMonth, NoReturns!' which seems to be mostly shop refunding policy,
the decorations are set loose,
with the screaming director designating colour schemes by room, the boxes taken down from the attic, and your Grandmother deeming that 'Music from The O.C.: Mix 3' is a sad load of rubbish, and indeed not quality carols.
'Remember Dave? Daddy used to put on such nice records, Nat King Cole..
with the screaming director designating colour schemes by room, the boxes taken down from the attic, and your Grandmother deeming that 'Music from The O.C.: Mix 3' is a sad load of rubbish, and indeed not quality carols.
'Remember Dave? Daddy used to put on such nice records, Nat King Cole..
-launches into her own dramatic moustache-vibrating cover of White Christmas- ..'
I spent my advent seaching for a shitting moose for a christmas present, which honestly was the only gift idea i had before the 23rd.
FYI, Advent (from the Latin word adventus, meaning "coming")
-adolescent chuckle-
is the lead up to Christmas, meaning either;
a) 'Prepare Ye, Prepare Ye, the Way of The Lord' (see Christianity - first season in liturgical calendar)
b) You spend twenty five days strung out, waiting for those little chocolate candies behind those tiny cardboard windows which possess the pure appeal of an illicit drug.
In the past month, my family has entertained (verb for throwing massive gathering too lame to be termed a 'party') seven times.
SEVEN TIMES.
Now when you're mopping the house, finding almost matching cutlery, and making little serviette suns around the stack of Noritake plates, it gets a bit much.
The Festive Season is a fairly big affair for my family
where tasteful decorating meets 'Santa Spewed in the front hall',
and no one actually snogs underneath the Kissing Ball.
and no one actually snogs underneath the Kissing Ball.
And to make the most of the social scene,
you primp yourself so your parents' friends' flattery never falls short.
Maybe you do that all year round.
But somehow, never with the people you want to actually impress, who tolerate tumbleweed hair and last minute outfits on a daily basis.
Your Best Friend gets you the most practical present, a hot pink 'Very Sexy' bra, and so you literally camerawhore instead of getting ready for Christmas lunch,
because last night, the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show was on, and you deem yourselves photographer / supermodel, just for a bit.
Those wings from the nativity play three year ago came in handy.
Oh, and Cover shots for the band!
So you scream, with your brother's dusty un-tuned guitar to Hall of Mirrors by the Distillers.
In technicoloured underwear, belts, bows, and 3D glasses.
Food was great.
I appreciate having a chef father.
I ate too much.
I missed the other people I loved who weren't there.
I treasured tradition, that will one day continue.
Speaking of tradition, then
there is the aftermath.
That sets women hyperventilating,
and their husbands digging in their pockets.
Two Words.
Boxing Day.
As they pass the roasted pumpkin, the females always ask, so where are you going this year?
'Well I wanted to go to DJ's..'
This business is ridiculous. David Jones (see overpriced stylish department store with feigned exclusivity provided by high prices for high quality) were opening at six o'clock am, and so Myer (see above) opened at five-thirty or something equally ridiculous.
Doesn't mean I didn't shop. Even though Boxing Day may be the only day I can afford to shop in a particular stretch of Bourke St, I stuck to Old Faithful (not spouting geyser) meaning The Local Shopping Centre and DFO.
Mum got her wrapping paper, and I was like a parent whose child was chosen to be the head angel in the school nativity play.
Look at what I bought.
And for how much?
Forty-six bleeding dollars.
Just so you know,
I was the head angel in the Nativity play.
Every year.
Just so you know,
I was the head angel in the Nativity play.
Every year.
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1 comments:
Sponge is an angel everyday =)
and WHOA 46 DOLLARSS ahhhh
i wish i spent that much =(
i wish i went to dfo at ess acutally..
DFO in city wasnt that great..
LOVE YOU inDEEdly :]
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