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Monday, 22 December 2003

Christmas Spirit ...... woooo000oooo00000oooooh


Now Playing: Simon Callow playing Galileo in typical hammy uber-luvvie fashion

I spent today feeling shitty, tired, increasingly depressed about Christmas (the celebrations so far consisted of watching people get pissed and congratulate each other on the wondrous state of their truly disastrous love lives at Duch's yesterday, till it all got too much and I had to leave to get emergency chocolate eclairs to feel better). I got the last of my presents, but all the shopping centres in East London were wickedmadcrowded. I had to park on the seventh floor of the Cruellest Cornered Car Park Ever, then run down nineteen flights of stairs to get change for a parking ticket, and back up again to put it in the car window, then down again to do the last minute present shopping, only to find that WHSmith have decided to stop diversifying into stocking actual fiction in their bookshop. Aaaaargh!
Wandered around the local pikey markets until the Christmas rubber nurse uniforms and splitcrotch knickers became too depressingly nylon (this was Stratford, bargain-hunters, if that sounds like just the last minute gift you were searching for - and all under a fiver, too).

The biggest nightmare of my 2003 Christmas holiday is that I have inherited two spoiled cats from the recently deceased relationship, and if I want to see any family, I have to drive them across country. Getting two cats into a tiny vet-smelling cat carrier then driving for two or three hours is going to involve blood, permanent facial scarring, fear-related poo and puke on all sides. Not to mention that if I let them loose inside the car, the only place they would go is beneath the brake pedal. I begged Wickedex to take the animals to her family's place, but they are overrun with free roaming gerbils. I did point out that cats like gerbils, but to no avail. I am stuck with unwanted cattitude.
So today I trekked to Beckton pet store, Plan B in the Quest to Find a Container capable of locking two insane felines down for two hours, preferably without causing unnecessary expulsion of stomach fluids from either end. So now I own a miniature, incredibly, stupidly expensive Dog Tent, which Fat Cat is currently snoring inside, and twenty four cat sleeping pills. God grant me the serenity not to deploy all the pills at once.
Suddenly strikes me that I haven't told any of my family I'm bringing animals with me. Uh-ohhh. Given that my parents mutter "we're not taking those damn cats if you get bored of them!" every time they see me, they may panic a little when I roll up at the door with a Dog Tent. Ah well, let's hope a shock's good exercise for the old ticker, eh? Either that or they read the blog before Thursday. (Well, some of the blog. Not the shag posts, obviously.)
Now I just need a large cardboard box, to convert the Dog Tent to something with enough room for two bad tempered animals who hate each other to survive without eye contact. If I bought a crate of wine I'd have a box of exactly the right size, but I'm absolutely certain that impending Christmas Negativity would also see me breaking my teetotaller vows and drinking it, so that option is out. Hmm.

All day, some talk radio DJ kept haranguing Londoners about when and how we know that The Christmas Spirit has arrived. For me, it's the point when you stop protesting and surrender. I have my marker pens and my Evening Standard TV guide ready; let the ceremonies begin.

Sigh.

Christmas Cracker Joke Survey 4:
Q. What do you call a bee with a quiet hum?
A. A mumble bee.
(Dammit, I can't remember which cracker this one came from; but the jingle is a good one...)

This page graced by sarsparilla at 7:16 PM GMT
Updated: Tuesday, 23 December 2003 10:37 PM GMT
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Monday, 22 December 2003 - 7:46 PM GMT

Name: Belle
Home Page: http://asortakindafairytale.blogspot.com/

I know that The Christmas Spirit has arrived when I am able to hear the incessant Christmas music on the radio and still resist the homicidal urges. Oh wait, that never happens.
Ok, I've got it, it's when I go into the pet store to buy cat food and come out with little reindeer antlers to force my cats to wear. Yay, Christmas.

Monday, 22 December 2003 - 7:51 PM GMT

Name: jatb

If you want I'll buy a crate of wine and give you the box, but I'll need help getting the wine home.

Monday, 22 December 2003 - 8:38 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

I am so with you on the animal reindeer antler torture. Perhaps I'll put tinsel inside the Dog Tent.

Monday, 22 December 2003 - 8:41 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

Ooooh, there's a possible! I was going to use public transport (for once) on Christmas Eve, so I could destroy my good intentions with a single glass of bubbly - but is there some sort of tube strike? If so, that might sound like half a plan.... thank you!

Monday, 22 December 2003 - 8:59 PM GMT

Name: Legomen
Home Page: http://legomenis.blogspot.com/

I believe there is a tube strike because a member of the union proved that one can play squash with a critical ankle injury and still not be able to work. The management promptly lost their sense of humour for some strange reason, I mean who needs an ankle to go "Minederdoorsplis"

Monday, 22 December 2003 - 9:10 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

I know far too many LUL employees to be able to comment on the fiasco without danger of being kneecapped. But thanks, David. I guess I'll drive!

Monday, 22 December 2003 - 9:13 PM GMT

Name: jatb

Bugger. I wonder if the Ritz dress code excludes lurid cycle garb?

Monday, 22 December 2003 - 9:29 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

Are you working on Christmas Eve? Cos if you're not and I drive there, I can pick you up if you like. But if you're working, it's probably at some ungodly hour of the morning when I'm still asleep.

I read somewhere that the tube strike doesn't start till 8pm, too. That's ages later than tea-time.

Monday, 22 December 2003 - 10:15 PM GMT

Name: Kat
Home Page: http://www.mostlyfluff.blogspot.com

Are you sure that those cat tranquilizers are for the cats to take and not the cat owner?

Monday, 22 December 2003 - 11:59 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

That's where the hammer comes in as Plan C.

Tuesday, 23 December 2003 - 6:01 AM GMT

Name: boz
Home Page: http://pimpress.com/boz/

Your T-shirt has been created.
T-shirts by Boz

Tuesday, 23 December 2003 - 6:59 AM GMT

Name: Lux
Home Page: http://www.shylux.blogspot.com

heheh. I was going to ask almost the same thing, only because if I had cat sleeping pills, I'd be considering it. Which is Why Lux Should Not Have Pets.

What a wicked Wickedex to abandon her cats. But, pointing out that cats like gerbils = hilarious.

Tuesday, 23 December 2003 - 12:41 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

Oh, it's a bone of high contention that I would be vilified for pointing out online; my psycho pass has expired from over-use. But I get the wet snotty damp furry things to cuddle, this way - what a Christmas present.
Pity, though, I'd like to see their mouser dreams evaporate as the gerbils outsmart them.... :o)

Tuesday, 23 December 2003 - 12:42 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

Yayyyy! Cheers, Boz! I shall put that into today's post (but my pc makes pictures taken from the web go a bit weird, so please forgive me when you look like a green dalek in it...!)

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