Thursday, 10 December 2015


Whorrified, Marie Sutherland, Pig-Face,
Which explains the earrings. Because Crown Royal 
makes EVERYTHING seem like a great idea.

Since the proud U.S. Thanksgiving tradition of a flaming celebrity meltdown did not materialize this year as wagered upon expected (see "Halle Berry, best Thanksgiving ever"), I am forced to regurgitate the boring goings-on of my own weekend. Which unfortunately did not involve a bare knuckle cage fight between my many exes, because honestly, I don't know who I'd bet on in that scenario but it wouldn't matter as long as one or all of them wound up looking like a Picasso

So what happened on this boring weekend was, I put up my Christmas tree. And I know some of you are saying "Unless you did it in the nude, we don't give a rat's ass," but bear with me. It gets better-ish.

Because I wasn't even going to bother putting a tree up at all this year I'm never home, we celebrate at Mom's house, Pig-Face's ridiculous tail does not need any more targets, do any of these excuses pass your rigourous "We judge thee" standards? but then today, while driving to the liquor store, I turned on the radio and heard Christmas carols. WHAT THE FECK! I huffed, isn't it a bit early for this crap?

because one year I broke one of my favourites 
and the house reeked of whiskey for a month.

Then suddenly it clicked: It's the first of December. Yet for some reason, call it a Christmas miracle, this realization did not make me want to shriek "BITE ME, MASTERCARD!" and reverse at full speed into the nearest Best Buy. Instead, it actually made me feel warm and fuzzy. Which is ironic, considering I'm facing a bit of a financial challenge this year (and no it is not because of my vodka habit; once I learned how to make my own from scratch the cost went WAAAY down) and therefore gifts are not going to be the focus of the entire holiday. Unless it's okay to give one's children the gift of homemade vodka, in which case I'm going to need more potatoes.

I was sure this was going to make me depressed and even more of a bitch than usual, but instead it appears to be having the opposite effect. It's like a huge ersatz burden has been lifted off my chest. It's like the spiritual glow of the season has been restored and refocused where it belongs: on my butt. Haha. You can see why my kids don't want to celebrate Christmas at my house. 

So anyway, I came home from the liquor store and decided, "Screw it, I'm putting the damn tree up and no one can stop me ... *long pause. "Anyone? Pig-Face? Aren't you going to try to stop me? Shit" * ... and two hours, two tumblers and a lot of cursing later, voila: Christmas tree. I feel positively aglow with good cheer! Now all that's left to do is wait for Pig-Face to knock it over with one wag of her curly tail so I can fly into a seething rage and toss the whole thing out the front door, broken bulbs and all, and wait for New Year's Eve. Now there's a holiday! *Clink*

EDITOR'S NOTE: Oh you think she's joking? Well Pig-Face and I are both cowering in the basement right now and we plan to stay here until January 1. One more drink and she won't even know we're missing ...