I'm a thoroughlydisorganised person - so disorganised that I can't find the time to backspace and separate those two words - so for me to actually have done that already means I was way too excited for it to ever have worked out. Oh well.
Still planning a reunion trip with My big sister to Austral;ia and provided we ever get there punk-free Victoria is our oyster. Gotta say it though, Seaworld was never my pick of the theme parks, and with Melbourne's reputation for underground gang wars I think I'm justified in being more than a little afraid of getting kneecapped by a loan shark. I'll have to think about this one.
I hope everyone had a very lovely Christmas. Still, I tell you, there's nothing more satisfying than seeing the person who's been tormenting you for the past month and a half standing limp in the corner of a rusting shipping container, surrounded by mouldering banana boxes and with their head up their arse for storage purposes. If only I could do the same for elderly relatives.
But seriously, Christmas wasn't too bad this year. People were already yelling at each other by 9.a.m., and Dad almost ruined Christmas for everyone by refusing to wear the flashing Rudolf lapel pin bought for him. He made up for it later that night by playing with toy bulldozers on the kitchen table, though. Jodie and Loxley came to visit because they're delightful little lambs and fearful of their own relatives, and my underaged brother managed to sneak most of the premium imports into his room, so when the time came for the annual ferret-about-town for light displays, he was sloshed and grumpy and still wearing that Industrie shirt I hate. It was fun but I scoff heartily at the idea of Boxing Day sales. Who in their right mind wants to go head-hunting cut-price charcoal brickettes when there's so much leftover pud to be devoured in front of the cricket?
Battling the capitalist hordes is for nobs and Socialists.
Still planning a reunion trip with My big sister to Austral;ia and provided we ever get there punk-free Victoria is our oyster. Gotta say it though, Seaworld was never my pick of the theme parks, and with Melbourne's reputation for underground gang wars I think I'm justified in being more than a little afraid of getting kneecapped by a loan shark. I'll have to think about this one.
I hope everyone had a very lovely Christmas. Still, I tell you, there's nothing more satisfying than seeing the person who's been tormenting you for the past month and a half standing limp in the corner of a rusting shipping container, surrounded by mouldering banana boxes and with their head up their arse for storage purposes. If only I could do the same for elderly relatives.
But seriously, Christmas wasn't too bad this year. People were already yelling at each other by 9.a.m., and Dad almost ruined Christmas for everyone by refusing to wear the flashing Rudolf lapel pin bought for him. He made up for it later that night by playing with toy bulldozers on the kitchen table, though. Jodie and Loxley came to visit because they're delightful little lambs and fearful of their own relatives, and my underaged brother managed to sneak most of the premium imports into his room, so when the time came for the annual ferret-about-town for light displays, he was sloshed and grumpy and still wearing that Industrie shirt I hate. It was fun but I scoff heartily at the idea of Boxing Day sales. Who in their right mind wants to go head-hunting cut-price charcoal brickettes when there's so much leftover pud to be devoured in front of the cricket?
Battling the capitalist hordes is for nobs and Socialists.