So here we are, doing this whole New Year’s deal again. I figured I might attempt to write some stuff out while I’m hungry and delirious and waiting for Kev to get his sweet smackable ass out of the shower. SMACK!

I got thinking about this as I was sitting out on the back porch, enjoying a choice, high-grade smoke (Marlboro) and talking about the glaring lack of plans we have for tomorrow. Not like I care. I don’t think I’ve ever had a New Year’s celebration to go off well for years. Last year was pretty much destroyed by breaking up with the ex. The year before was riddled with panic attacks in the wilds of Scotland (Aberdeen — dude… “wilds” is fitting on New Year I MEAN LIKE NO JOKE LULZ [huh?]). Before that was the fantastic experience of blacking out and coming to with some dude fucking me while I just silently prayed he’d get off, go away, and I could pretend it never happened. Year before that, my first and last experimentation with smokes beyond tobacco, which was a huge paranoid catastrophe. I think the New Year before that was fairly good, though. So it isn’t always fail.

And I can’t imagine this one being fail in any capacity. I mean, honestly? For real? I’d be perfectly content getting all jacked-up on sugar and caffeine, and crashing on the couch all snuggled-up and comfy. But that’s all I ever want to do any night. Sugar. Caffeine. Cuddle.

But this isn’t about what I want to do next year. This is about what I’ve done last year. And… well, yes, one thing dominates the whole handful of months: meeting Kev. Read more

Packed up, checked in, boarding passes printed, and ready to roll. I’m absolutely amazed at the awesome power of Space Bags. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Space Bags are the best thing to ever happen to Planet Earth. FO SHEEZY. With all my shit all nice and compressed, I had ample space to get lappy packed for travel, too. So I’ll be able to check in on the online-world a wee bit more often than if I had to steal Kev’s compy.

I’m also clean, groomed, and smelling of oranges. I fucking rock.

Since I’m not gonna be home for x-mess, Mom decided tonight was Christmas Eve. I opened my pressies, and had them open theirs. Being skint as I am this year, I couldn’t afford much better than your run-of-the-mill gift-set, but they were chuffed: a box of Walkers Shortbread cookies, Earl Grey and English Breakfast tea, and a pair of mugs. Aye… some things I’ve carried back from over The Pond will never fade… we loves us some fukkin’ Walkers.

It’s just too bad I couldn’t get anyone else to like Marmite. SIGH. Ahhh I remember last Christmas, I got a leetle pot of Marmite, and had my brother try it… and he strained his neck, he was gagging so hard. Hahahah.

[pottymouth]
OH HELL I COULD TOTALLY BRING MARMITE. YES. I AM PACKING SOME MARMITE RIGHT FUCKING NOW. I WILL TORTURE THE FUCK OUT OF KEV WITH SOME MOTHERFUCKING MARMITE, YEAH!!
[/pottymouth]

As for my motherlode, I have a nice warm set of flannel sheets (RAWK!), a half dozen little ceramic jars for my herbs and botanicals, and a pair of latte mugs I fell in lurve with, each emblazoned with “Naughty” and “Nice” on either side. All I have to do is swich hands, and BAM! People will know what I’m all about that day. HA! Ah love eet!

I can’t lie… I’m gonna miss being with the fam this Christmas. Thanksgiving wasn’t a big deal, because we really don’t do Thanksgiving much. Christmas, though… yeah, that’s different. I love the family, the baking, setting up the Christmas Night party spread, cranking tunes. I love the Wensleydale, the Appleton, my spinach cheese balls and whatever heavily herbed cheeses look good that year. But who knows when the next time will be when Kev and I can spend Christmas with his crew? I am kind of stealing him away from everything down there… so it’s only right that I pop down this time around. We’ll have a few years-worth of of cheese-fest, at least.

Hmm.

Welp. I guess there’s only one thing left to say:

Kev: “I’m so gay. There’s something about you that makes you a dude.” [slight pause] “What a horrible thing to say!”
Me: “No, no… well if it helps, everyone online thinks I’m a dude until I’m like, ‘No, no, I have tits, seriously.’”
Kev: “…well bring ‘em here!”
Me: [chuckles]

Wait, no, that wasn’t it. I mean:

Happy Holidays, everyone

Alternatively titled: X-Mess Wrapping.

Final grades are all in.  Two As and two Bs.  Not what I hoped for, but about what I expected.  Actually, if we can be honest here, I expected to do much worse than a B in German, considering just how much I slacked off after midterm.  Actually, I slacked off pretty freakin’ badly in all my classes after midterm.  Half of my SW lectures were slept-through or missed altogether, and I generally skipped Micro when I missed SW.  Didn’t finish required reading in Ecology.  So I should be very satisfied with what I got, and extremely frustrated at how much I didn’t do in order to get those marks.

I could be a better person if I just tried at it.

So now all I have to worry about are the holidays.  I’m still trying to figure out what all I need to pack.  It’s sort of strange that the less I have to pack, the more confused and flustered I get with it… constantly feeling as if I’m forgetting something.

Clothes? Check.  Chargers? Check.  Tits?  Double-check.

I just hope some of the drama simmers down for the holidays.  The forum for which I serve as an admin has had two punches over the last few, one very recently in the way of an article filled with copious amounts of misinformation and flat-out ignorance that directly quoted from us out of context, so I’ve been lurking pretty heavily and trying to put my best-face-forward on that front.  It’s all fun and cupcakes til you realize there are people out there who derive some perverse sense of joy from belittling a peaceful spiritual community.

I’d wager these are folk who try and pretend they didn’t see the Salvation Army bell-ringers when they walk out of a store.  Or worse, pretend they can’t afford to spare a dollar when they’re carrying out $500 in merch for their ungrateful brat-children.

And finally, how wrong is it that 800 miles of latitude separates two temperature ranges by 50F?  Words cannot describe the frustration.

Been fighting a cold over the past few days. Cold has moved into my chest. Got some Mucinex and zinc to add to my “OH HELL NO!!” regimen. The last thing I need is a raging case of bronchitis over finals. It’s bad enough I’ll be soaking plugs that week. Urge to kill: RISING.

Ripped the dash out of my car. What? Totally not rash. No, I was intending to put in the deck from my old car, since the current cd player is going all “fuck you” on me every whoopstitch. So I rip out the dash, which takes about an hour and a half (stupid-assed new-cars making you take out the entire goddamned front-end to get to ANYTHING), finally get to the deal, unscrew the deal, and no, all my hoping and wishing didn’t do any good, because I did need a new adaptor. So off I go to Wal Mart (nothing), Sugarshack (nothing) and finally AutoZone, where the fellah kind of chuckles when I tell him it’s an ’02 Cavalier (and starts going on and on about what a pain in the ass that dash is). He checks his computers and, thanks to Chevy and/or Delco being a bunch of fags, the adaptor would cost $100, because it’s special order.

Naturally, I’m all, “fuck that”. So I get to try and wire it myself. DUN DUN DUNNNN. I’ve never wired anything in my life, so this should be fun. Dad found the info online as to what wire was what (cost him $5… apparently post-2000 Cavalier stereo schematics rank up there with the Colonel’s Secret Recipe). Now I just have to figure out what wire which goes to this and that goes to what on the plug-dealie. At any rate, I have to get it all put back together tomorrow, cos of needing my dash to be in a somewhat-together position for driving to finals next week. Joy and jubilee.

Tomorrow: It Should Be Fun.

Now, to start on my German homework. Last homework of the year. *sniffle*

So tonight, in German class, Lissi played us some Christmas music…

Fuck. Yes. THIS is what Christmas music should be.

After last week’s 7-day stay with Kevbot for Thanksgiving, I pretty much stomped my feet and spat and screamed about how 10 days over Christmas break was SO not enough.  So I checked on extending my stay.  Changing my itinerary would’ve cost an arm and a leg, so I decided to just not show up for the original return flight and book a separate one for about 70% less.  Which, in a round-about way, was actually already paid for, since Kev shoved some bills in my hand and told me to go crazy on Black Friday.  I didn’t do that, and was trying to figure out a clever way of giving it back to him… I guess considering it as a purchase for more time is a good enough way.  At least, it’s a way that we’ll both get a kick out of.  Plus I get to giggle over going, “oh, oopsie-doodle, I missed my flight” [yawn/snog/buttgrab].  It’s all pretty WIN.

So… fuck yes.  Just have to make it through finals-hell before I get to have two and a half weeks of IN YO FACE.  Mmph.  Yessss. Then after that… to just survive the next few months til living arrangements get arranged.  That’s gonna be a bite in the side.  *flail*