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This year's was one of the more interesting Christmases I can remember.
The fun began about 2am on Christmas Eve night when I quite suddenly developed a fierce craving for chicken. For a while, the craving for chicken and the need to go to bed warred. I even asked my boyfriend for advice on what to do. From his post at the hospital where he's a nurse, he advised going to bed lest I eat the chicken and then suffer from dreams about lesbian encounters with tattooed ballet dancers from San Francisco.
Remarks like that are part of the reason I love him. To find someone who gets your weird sense of humor and can sometimes outdo you is truly a gift.
Eventually, however, the desire for chicken won out so off I went. Late night restaurants are fun. I didn't go my usual choice, which often offers an incomparable look into just how odd this town can be -- such as the time I went there and saw a table of drag queens making balloon animals. Being so tired, I chose a place closer to my apartment, but I was pleased to find that this restaurant offered an experience almost on par with my regular late-night haunt. The mixed clientele was a good sign. There were black girls in club wear, a few tables of old white people, a tired-looking family with little kids, a large contingent of gangbangers, and a member of the city police department's SWAT team. You can't go wrong with a mix like that.
I had a good meal and went up to pay, and that's when I saw her up close. I'd seen her circulating around the restaurant, chatting with the customers and from a distance there didn't seem to be anything unusual about her. Up close however... she was wearing a black lace choker, red crystal earrings, and when she smiled she revealed that she had one hell of a set of fangs. Whether they were dental implants, her own teeth ground into that shape, or some genetic quirk, the girl had honest-to-God fangs. She wished me a merry Christmas, complimented me on my first name, and I paid and left.
The next day, yesterday, was pretty good. It couldn't be anything but what with a good start like that, despite the fact that I had a rather "Gift of the Magi" Christmas -- I got shirts too ugly to wear, the wrong version of the Ghostbusters cartoon series on dvd, and a beautiful set of sterling silver rings that don't fit, among other gift fails. And I destroyed a good bit of my mother's bakeware when it slid out of the cabinet and shattered on the stone floor of the kitchen. And I sliced my finger open cleaning it up. On the other hand (the unbandaged one), my mom made cinnamon rolls, there was a roaring fire in the fireplace, a cat was trolling around the front yard looking like a little brown shark from where its back was the only thing poking up out of the snow, and we were all running on fast forward from where we were trying to get everything done before the snow got too deep for my brother and his family and I to get home again.
Drove all the way home, alongside snowplows with their blades throwing up sparks from the pavement, presented my presents to my roommates for their inspection -- including a large bag containing, according to our calculations, approximately 19,000 calories worth of candy -- and found that one of my roommates wanted to go to lunch.
About that time my boyfriend woke up and sent a text message. I invited him along. Then, twenty minutes later, as we were all still waiting around, I sent my roommates on ahead. Shortly thereafter, my boyfriend arrived and promptly got stuck in the snow covering the parking lot in front of the apartment. I dug him out with the snow shovel that no North Carolinian should be without. He got stuck again. I dug him out again. He got stuck again, and when he sent me inside to retrieve the Rice Krispie treats my roommate had made and forgotten and texted to ask me to bring along, he dug himself out.
Off we went, and had a nice German lunch. Chocolate mousse was involved, along with platters of meat heaped tits-high.
Afterward, my boyfriend went back off to his apartment and I went with my roommates to visit mutual friends who live at the top of a mountain and whose road was impassible. We parked at the bottom and walked up to the top of the mountain, hauling Christmas gifts. When we arrived we were greeted with great surprise and replied that we were just out for a stroll and thought we'd drop in. We then sat around eating caramel popcorn, talking about nothing in particular, and admiring their Christmas tree, which was fastened with wire to a beam visible through a hole in the ceiling to keep it from falling over. Cats were petted, and people were lashed severely with the wagging tail of a happy dog.
Afterward, we slid down the mountain and drove home, stopping for snacks along the way, because we wanted to watch Kick Ass when we got back home. After that, one of my roommates insisted on watching a movie about a mouse, set in a soup-obsessed kingdom, and at that point I had to go upstairs to try on new clothes and watch the second volume of the Ghostbusters cartoon series that I actually did want, while planning to search for the first volume myself one of these days.
And now here I am. Can't tell if it's still snowing out, but I hope so. I'd like another day off from work.
The fun began about 2am on Christmas Eve night when I quite suddenly developed a fierce craving for chicken. For a while, the craving for chicken and the need to go to bed warred. I even asked my boyfriend for advice on what to do. From his post at the hospital where he's a nurse, he advised going to bed lest I eat the chicken and then suffer from dreams about lesbian encounters with tattooed ballet dancers from San Francisco.
Remarks like that are part of the reason I love him. To find someone who gets your weird sense of humor and can sometimes outdo you is truly a gift.
Eventually, however, the desire for chicken won out so off I went. Late night restaurants are fun. I didn't go my usual choice, which often offers an incomparable look into just how odd this town can be -- such as the time I went there and saw a table of drag queens making balloon animals. Being so tired, I chose a place closer to my apartment, but I was pleased to find that this restaurant offered an experience almost on par with my regular late-night haunt. The mixed clientele was a good sign. There were black girls in club wear, a few tables of old white people, a tired-looking family with little kids, a large contingent of gangbangers, and a member of the city police department's SWAT team. You can't go wrong with a mix like that.
I had a good meal and went up to pay, and that's when I saw her up close. I'd seen her circulating around the restaurant, chatting with the customers and from a distance there didn't seem to be anything unusual about her. Up close however... she was wearing a black lace choker, red crystal earrings, and when she smiled she revealed that she had one hell of a set of fangs. Whether they were dental implants, her own teeth ground into that shape, or some genetic quirk, the girl had honest-to-God fangs. She wished me a merry Christmas, complimented me on my first name, and I paid and left.
The next day, yesterday, was pretty good. It couldn't be anything but what with a good start like that, despite the fact that I had a rather "Gift of the Magi" Christmas -- I got shirts too ugly to wear, the wrong version of the Ghostbusters cartoon series on dvd, and a beautiful set of sterling silver rings that don't fit, among other gift fails. And I destroyed a good bit of my mother's bakeware when it slid out of the cabinet and shattered on the stone floor of the kitchen. And I sliced my finger open cleaning it up. On the other hand (the unbandaged one), my mom made cinnamon rolls, there was a roaring fire in the fireplace, a cat was trolling around the front yard looking like a little brown shark from where its back was the only thing poking up out of the snow, and we were all running on fast forward from where we were trying to get everything done before the snow got too deep for my brother and his family and I to get home again.
Drove all the way home, alongside snowplows with their blades throwing up sparks from the pavement, presented my presents to my roommates for their inspection -- including a large bag containing, according to our calculations, approximately 19,000 calories worth of candy -- and found that one of my roommates wanted to go to lunch.
About that time my boyfriend woke up and sent a text message. I invited him along. Then, twenty minutes later, as we were all still waiting around, I sent my roommates on ahead. Shortly thereafter, my boyfriend arrived and promptly got stuck in the snow covering the parking lot in front of the apartment. I dug him out with the snow shovel that no North Carolinian should be without. He got stuck again. I dug him out again. He got stuck again, and when he sent me inside to retrieve the Rice Krispie treats my roommate had made and forgotten and texted to ask me to bring along, he dug himself out.
Off we went, and had a nice German lunch. Chocolate mousse was involved, along with platters of meat heaped tits-high.
Afterward, my boyfriend went back off to his apartment and I went with my roommates to visit mutual friends who live at the top of a mountain and whose road was impassible. We parked at the bottom and walked up to the top of the mountain, hauling Christmas gifts. When we arrived we were greeted with great surprise and replied that we were just out for a stroll and thought we'd drop in. We then sat around eating caramel popcorn, talking about nothing in particular, and admiring their Christmas tree, which was fastened with wire to a beam visible through a hole in the ceiling to keep it from falling over. Cats were petted, and people were lashed severely with the wagging tail of a happy dog.
Afterward, we slid down the mountain and drove home, stopping for snacks along the way, because we wanted to watch Kick Ass when we got back home. After that, one of my roommates insisted on watching a movie about a mouse, set in a soup-obsessed kingdom, and at that point I had to go upstairs to try on new clothes and watch the second volume of the Ghostbusters cartoon series that I actually did want, while planning to search for the first volume myself one of these days.
And now here I am. Can't tell if it's still snowing out, but I hope so. I'd like another day off from work.
Yay I got it!
There, there... Here, have a 
to make this DVD all better.
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