OK, so I'm writing from Windsor. Because people are out, or watching movies, or whatever, and I just woke up after eating turkey leftovers (Yes, what in the hell is the name of that stuff in turkey that makes you sleepy? I'm not going to attempt to spell it, but I believe it begins with a T. Help me out here.).So. My cousin Safra (I mentioned her waaaaaay the hell back in this entry) took me out to some bar around midnight on Christmas Eve. Remind me not to keep drinking just because people TELL me to keep drinking, even though the room is starting to spin and I'm losing my balance ... OK? Ugh. I surrender to peer pressure WAY too easily.
So in conclusion, I spent Christmas day with a hangover. This is the third time I've gotten a little too "festive" on Christmas or Christmas Eve ... will I never learn? Oh well. Nothing tops the year I got sick on Christmas Eve and then had to spend Christmas morning shampooing my own puke out of the carpet. Isn't that a lovely image? Aren't you glad I shared? I knew you would be.
Anyway, here's a lovely little quote from my Christmas in Windsor I'd like to share with you:
Safra: [standing over me in the bathroom as I'm huddled with my head practically in the toilet bowl] "Lara, you have GOT to learn to drink more!"
Me: "*VOMIT*"
Heartwarming, no? Yeah, I do like my cousin Safra, but sympathetic she is NOT.
So ... what did I get for Christmas? Umm ... nothing that fascinating. Some spiffy threads from expensive stores (I'm wearing Calvin Klein pajamas as we speak, which makes me feel quite odd, to be honest ... but they were a gift), a couple of DVDs, and ... money money MONAAAY! *Gets up and does her notorious happy dance*
Trip to Europe? No. New wardrobe? Not quite. Backrub? Nope. Boyfriend? Definitely not.
But that's OK. My birthday has yet to arrive. I haven't given up hope.
Tomorrow we go back home to the big cold city they call T.O. Part of me really loathes that place, you know? Better than boring-ass London, yes ... but so damned unfriendly. Who in Toronto agrees and wants to be my friend? We can start a posse. C'mon, it'll be fun times ... fun, fun times.
I sound like a small child. I don't know why. Maybe because we're leaving tomorrow to the city where I have no friends or relatives besides The Parents and the thought makes me sad and lonely. And is it just me, or is making friends in this city really damned difficult if you're not in university or something? I can almost feel the frosty reserve of everyone around me ... at work, in my building, EVERYWHERE. Everyone seems to give off these "Get the hell outta my way, I don't know you" vibes, and I hate it. HATE it.
I need a hobby, damnit.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and talk to one of the dogs or cats in this house about my troubles ... because I think I've whined enough to all of you. Besides, when dogs bring me drool-covered squeaky toys and kitties claw my arms to death it makes me feel loved.
Goodnight.
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