A Ladyfriend themed Christmas
05.12.06, 10:17 pm
My dad rang the other night and raised the horrible point of Christmas Day, or rather What He Wants To Do On Christmas Day And Your Opinion Is Welcome But This Is What We�re Doing. In a nutshell, he wants to spend most of the day at Ladyfriend�s, with her kids, and I do not. Mostly because I don�t like her, but also because the whole thing sounds hideously awkward and uncomfortable. Obviously I can�t say that though, so instead I ummed and ahhed my way through various half-sentences along the lines of how I hadn�t met them all that many times, and I�d probably be really tired and unsociable. It was a phonecall that kind�ve made me want to die.
Nothing that I said mattered though, because my dad is insistent on us having a huge cosy fake family Christmas, either at chez Manchester or chez Ladyfriend�s. He said that we could have it at ours in Manchester if that�d make me feel better, but because I�m an adult now and just a generally good person, I guess, I said that we should have it where Ladyfriend�s kids would feel more comfortable. I would've loved to have just put my foot down and refused to his plans, but obviously I can't. That would have led to huge arguments, shouting and more of the "You don't want me to be happy, I'm scarificing my happiness for you and you're just stabbing me in the back!" shit that kicked off after he'd just met Bernie. Christmas Day at Ladyfriend�s. It�s going to be a total nightmare, and I really wish I were exaggerating.
My dad�s also been talking about me to Ladyfriend the entire weekend and it bugs the shit out of me. Especially as she�s made it perfectly clear that she�s not even slightly interested in getting to know me.
Anyway, everything�s been pretty average since I last wrote. I managed an almost full day at work on Monday (working off hours from when I was ill), before dying around 4pmish. Today I worked an afternoon as we went down to St. George�s for a seminar on �Why Creationism is Wrong and Evolution is Right�. I�m not quite sure what it has to do with cancer in any way, but it was apparently part of work, so yay. Really good speaker � looked and sounded just like Tony Robinson. And so despite the seminar being excellent, I did go into a ten-minute daydream about the amazingness of Maid Marian And Her Merry Men, which is arguably one of the greatest kids� TV programmes ever. Bar Knightmare. And Thundercats. I always wanted a Thundercats sword and never got one, mainly because nobody trusted me to not whack my sister with it.
Crazy Cognitive Behavioural Therapy on Thursday. Half looking forward to it, in that it might help, but half growing more and more apprehensive. Becky rang tonight and I explained the whole thing to her, but it took a good three tries before she understood the brain mechanics. I think I need to remember that unlike me, most people find brain mechanics quite boring. The ME at least seems to have settled down a little now, thank God. It was looking pretty desperate when I was falling asleep on the bus to work, after being up for a grand total of 30 minutes. Even by ME standards that�s proper taking the piss.
I am being forced to do Christmas cards this year, because my friends now live in various cities scattered across the United Kingdom. Thinking about it, the stamp costs are going to bleed me dry. Anyway, if anyone would like a Christmas card (I know! Who wouldn�t?!) then I am more than happy to spread my festive good wishes (Zoe, you�re getting a festive fish card whether you like it or not). Speaking of Christmas (yet again), I believe that me, Lisa and Linda are having our own Christmas meal not this Thursday but next. Except seeing as Lisa needs supervising with all culinary activities (the other week she managed to set fire to herself whilst making a cup of tea) I�m thinking that I�m going to be lumbered with cooking duty. I think I want an apron with GORDON RAMSAY�S GODDESS, BOTH IN AND OUT OF THE KITCHEN on it. Or maybe just one with a big picture of his face.
last - next