Blooming crikey. I still feel pissed two days later. As I missed the 'window of opportunity' to speak to mini-goth and mini-gothess I went on what is affectionally known as a 'bender'. Sleep is for wimps - drink until you pass out or get arrested. Simple rules - drink what ever is in front of you and then go 'mine-sweeping' (pouring drinks into your glass from peeps who have been forced to visit the toilets, look after a dying pet, been stabbed in the head with a pencil etc).
It wasn't my fault I wasn't allowed to speak to the mini-goths. The dragon had other ideas. She was obviously extremely pissed off that the mini-goths liked my gifts more than hers. She wants me back - I don't want to go and thus we have a problem. In the meantime, mi mariposa was on the phone to our mutual friends in Paris. I got chastised for being arsey (yeah, yeah..I know) but they had got the wrong end of the stick. I was moody because I wanted to tell my beautiful children that I love them and wasn't able to.
Got loads of groovy new toys to play with. Thanks to mama, busy stroking hobbits in New Zealand with my not-so-little bro - the entire first series of 'Me llamo Earl' on DVD. Thanks to mi media naranja (with a little help from my vegetarian buddy from the yUK) I now have a funky MP3 player. Also the shirts that I had coveted in autumn.
More importantly, I got the chance to make a difference. Not homeless stories this time, una chica I used to work with - a beautiful woman and mini Voda (sic) that any normal guy would die for - her ex is a moron, this muppet can't see past his nose, it's so far up his arse. I swear I will stamp on his christmas chestnuts and derive great pleasure from the process.
And so, raise a glass to V and join me in mashing his bits into porridge.
Other than that, quite a normal Christmas in Goth World ;-)