Very sad day. Just took down my Christmas tree. Meant to do it last weekend but I couldn’t bear the thought/too lazy. Now it’s down. Meaning Christmas is over. Done. Dusted. Out. Buried. No more. Hard to take. Although the thing is:
Does Christmas ever even start in LA?
Not at all.
Week leading up to Christmas: No buzz. At all. Few places had decorations up, of course. Shops were plumping and pimping out Christmas deals. But all felt fake. Selling. As opposed to cheerful. Plus, I too was working a good bit – Book on – so it kept my mind off the cold, hardened, heathen, non-Christmas buzz in the air. People don’t even say ‘Happy Christmas’ here. It’s all ‘Happy Holidays!’ Just in case you somehow offend someone? Funk. That. Christmas. On! Ye whures.
Pint Per Pub. Shots Encouraged, But Purely Optional...
As always, 12 Pubs of Christmas held high hopes for kicking the Christmas buzz into gear. As always, initial responses to the mighty pub crawl were lukewarm/confused/uninterested/horrendous. Mighty. Thankfully, closer to the day, a group formed, Christmas jumpers were purchased, and the crawl was on. (Either way I was going on it but always nicer to have others in dodgy Christmas jumpers join you on your way.)
That was a good hoot at least. Quite and polite at first. Chug and chug at second. Warming up at third. Banter at fourth. And people out of their shells at five. As always, one quiet guy in the group burst out of his shell with a demonic smile. Hilarious guy who I know only as Dave. Don’t remember much about him. Just that Continue Reading »
Not too sure what a typical Valentine’s Day consists of… Bed. Breakfast. Chocolates. Flowers. Wining. Dining. Whining. Drunk. Lingerie. Hip hip hooray? Not too sure. Mine was similar enough to that. Ish. Kind of. Not at all. More like a typical Sunday. Back in the pre-cave days. Hand bags. Man bags. Russian. Riding. Chinese. Haggling. Dancing. Carrots. Juice. Mexican. Flowers. Bouncing. Drag. Puff. Vaseline. And. An. Alley. Typical enough. Continue Reading »