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Thursday, December 28, 2017

Did You Have a Good Christmas?

Apart from the fact that my German Shepherd almost bit my brother-in law’s face off and left two distinct fang marks in his forehead and chin with blood streaming everywhere and apart from the fact that most of us were very pissed and there was a bit of a skirmish on the front lawn on the next door neighbour’s driveway... it was a pretty good Christmas.

Don’t ask.

We had fun.

In a sense.

We had so much fun that I almost threw up in the Robina Town Centre Food Court because of the sickly smell of sweet and sour pork when I reluctantly took my darling daughter to indulge in Boxing Day shopping.

I must admit that I had to go and lie down in the car before she finished her spending scourge, but Scotto turned on the air-conditioning in the Tucson and I somehow managed not to throw up in his brand new car.

I kept thinking about dry crackers and deserts (deserts not desserts.)

It seemed to help with the pre-spew dribbling  when thinking about really dry stuff.

Christmas is hectic and although I enjoyed all the Facebook posts displaying everyone around their Christmas table and all the posts about Eggs Benedict and civilised celebrations… my Chrismas wasn’t that picturesque or civilised.

Not at all, really.

Our celebrations were more… boganesque.

That’s alright though.

No one died.

Except Albert, my parents’ dog… on Christmas Eve

My parents were understandably devastated by the event.

Naturally, the following day, whilst analysing the dramatic and drunken events of Christmas Day,  (in the presence of my mother), I boldly stated,

“Well! At least no one DIED!”

Everyone just stared at me in mortification.

“Except Albert,” I corrected myself as my poor mother began weeping in proper grief.

Dear God, help me to keep my big effing mouth closed, I prayed to baby Jesus.

Probs the worst Christmas ever.