Wondering why I always leave Christmas shopping to the last minute. (Something about not wanting to buy into such a consumerist nightmare, but still feeling obligated to purchase gifts for others, springs to mind) (it also might have something to do with the fact that I refuse to do anything remotely Christmassy until after my birthday (last week). (Which probably is a bit annoying for my friends who want to meet up for Christmas-drinks and are forced to toast to my good health instead: “But it’s my party - and I’ll cry if I want to...”).
Being thankful that I have managed to avoid a work-related Christmas party this year. This might be because I am not actually an ‘employee’ anymore; but also that I really have no interest in getting drunk and snogging some bloke whom I wouldn’t look at twice when sober. So it’s some relief not to have to participate in stupid drunken shenanigans. (Plus I am shit at karaoke.).
Watching in shock as people buy food like there was a war on; clearing the shelves of goods in a blind Christmas panic. Relax folks: it’s just a fucking two-day holiday for chrissakes.
Dreaming about mince pies - not yet had one this year. Am saving up this delicious, gratifying moment for one orally-orgasmic day. (Which will hopefully include a more satisfying (and real) version of sweet-meat being placed into my mouth as well.).
Thinking of interesting things someone could do with leftover Sellotape, bubble-wrap and scissors: i) Strip me naked. ii) Cut required length of bubble-wrap. iii) Coil bubble-wrap around me (from underarm to shins) (bubbles inward) (obviously). iv) Carefully stick tape around my waist to prevent me wriggling. v) Squeeze tightly. vi) Wait for my squeals of delight as the bubbles pop. vii) Cut hole in bubble-wrap. viii) Fuck me. ix) Unwrap me. x) Fuck me again. (The perfect seasonal present, I think). (For me, anyway.).
Fingers crossed Santa will bring me the gift I want. (Festive ribbon not necessary, but will willingly remove with mouth if tied in an appropriate place).