Holiday Recap
Happy New Year, everybody.
It's been an exhausting holiday, though for the most part a pleasant one. For Christmas Eve and Christmas day I went back to my parents' house after work, ate until I couldn't move, opened presents, all that good stuff. I did have to work both days, which kind of sucked and made me bitter. Even Bob Fucking Cratchitt got Christmas Day off, for chrissake. Though Toby did let me go a couple of hours early Christmas Day, since we had no shows and nothing was happening and there was zero reason for me to actually be there.
My dad got my mother a Blu-Ray player and a massive, massive television. Well, he got it for both of them, but he paid for it out of his own money and surprised her with it, which was pretty sweet. (For the record, if anyone wants to surprise me with a fantastically expensive present, I'd prefer antique jewelry, or a pony or something. But the TV seemed to please her.) It's really huge... I have no idea how huge, but it's roughly the size of a screen in a modern megeplex cinema.
I, on the other hand, am getting a dryer. This was not a surprise, but it's still a good thing. I do rather wish that my parents would get on it and, you know, order it. We had one all picked out, and then dad procrastinated and now the price has, like, doubled. So we have to find another one. Most of the time, I'm too exhausted to really care too much. That's sort of the story of my life lately.
Anyway, New Year's was a blast: Bartlet for America and Sparky and Neil and an old friend of Sparky's, Solidarity Forever, who's fabulous. There was a paddle-boat and an open bar and tasty hors d'ouvres and goodness.
And then the next morning I had a brutal hangover, and it was bitterly cold, and so I took the metro from Neil's to Pentagon City, because I'd left my car at Sparky and Bartlet for America's, and since I had to walk four blocks to their house I went shopping first to get some flats. My thought process when I'm hungover is a little foggy.
Oh, speaking of hangovers, I have a whole fuckton of Black Books icons to post shortly, because I'm obsessed now. I kind of wan to have Dylan Moran's babies. So cute, so clever, so Irish... and in Black Books he's go this very Neil Gaiman-y thing going on, all dark suits and rumpled black hair and permanently just awakened. Actually, he's the obvious choice for Richard Mayhew if they could make him Irish instead of Scottish. Anyway, icon post once I finish a couple of animated ones.
It's been an exhausting holiday, though for the most part a pleasant one. For Christmas Eve and Christmas day I went back to my parents' house after work, ate until I couldn't move, opened presents, all that good stuff. I did have to work both days, which kind of sucked and made me bitter. Even Bob Fucking Cratchitt got Christmas Day off, for chrissake. Though Toby did let me go a couple of hours early Christmas Day, since we had no shows and nothing was happening and there was zero reason for me to actually be there.
My dad got my mother a Blu-Ray player and a massive, massive television. Well, he got it for both of them, but he paid for it out of his own money and surprised her with it, which was pretty sweet. (For the record, if anyone wants to surprise me with a fantastically expensive present, I'd prefer antique jewelry, or a pony or something. But the TV seemed to please her.) It's really huge... I have no idea how huge, but it's roughly the size of a screen in a modern megeplex cinema.
I, on the other hand, am getting a dryer. This was not a surprise, but it's still a good thing. I do rather wish that my parents would get on it and, you know, order it. We had one all picked out, and then dad procrastinated and now the price has, like, doubled. So we have to find another one. Most of the time, I'm too exhausted to really care too much. That's sort of the story of my life lately.
Anyway, New Year's was a blast: Bartlet for America and Sparky and Neil and an old friend of Sparky's, Solidarity Forever, who's fabulous. There was a paddle-boat and an open bar and tasty hors d'ouvres and goodness.
And then the next morning I had a brutal hangover, and it was bitterly cold, and so I took the metro from Neil's to Pentagon City, because I'd left my car at Sparky and Bartlet for America's, and since I had to walk four blocks to their house I went shopping first to get some flats. My thought process when I'm hungover is a little foggy.
Oh, speaking of hangovers, I have a whole fuckton of Black Books icons to post shortly, because I'm obsessed now. I kind of wan to have Dylan Moran's babies. So cute, so clever, so Irish... and in Black Books he's go this very Neil Gaiman-y thing going on, all dark suits and rumpled black hair and permanently just awakened. Actually, he's the obvious choice for Richard Mayhew if they could make him Irish instead of Scottish. Anyway, icon post once I finish a couple of animated ones.