Mum decided we needed a trip to Paris. It's now a "thing," our "annual thing," though really it's entirely meant for Mum to get me away and bellow about whatever nefarious scuffles she thinks I've got up to over Christmas.
Unfortunately for the old twaddlebrain, she's no Eleanor Shaw and no amount of brainwashing or browbeating will convince me that it wasn't entirely appropriate at the time to introduce Cousin Niles's new girlfriend to the family by sneaking off with her to the stable and leaving her there. Locked in. For two days.
Sod off. It wasn't even that cold. She was FINE. There are BLANKETS there, for the horses and such. It's hardly my fault that she's so milquetoast nobody even missed her.
And anyway, maybe it was even more Christmassy to spend the night out there instead of in with us sipping spiced cider and singing carols around our quaint living room. I mean, Jesus WAS born in a stable, right? Chuh, the whole thing is totally spanking ridiculous, and I got an earful about it, but at least the old twat managed to buy me a fur while prattling on.
|This one is mine. Mum also bought one for Dad, who may be closeted, I'm not sure.|
Anywhozits, the lecturing aside, it was a delightful trip aside from the part where Mum tried to climb the flying buttresses of Notre Dame shouting, "Quasimodo! On y va!" and they had to pull her down.
So now we're at New Years, which was typically understated in that I showed up tits-out to a fabulous do held by important people, though I did wear opaque stockings with a strapless dress which seemed an odd choice. The important thing is tits-out though.
Reflections on 2013. Loves lost, 0 really. I also gained zero pounds, though I did have to have several fillings in my teeth and the plumbing entirely redone in my flat.
As for the rest of it, ah, who cares? Introspection is for the masses, darlings, and I've simply too much fun to be having to bother. So keep on reaching for the stars, and those of us who live among them will keep dropping little bits of stardust for you to catch in both hands.
.....Oh, goodness. I'm SUCH a good writer. That was EXCELLENT. It is utterly BRUTAL that I haven't a book deal yet, though to be frank just the word "deadline" makes me reach for the wine glass.
Many happy tidings, my peasants,