HO HO HO!

Christmas Eve.

It is Christmas Eve already, people!

Last night, the Damn Emo’s were not home so MPS and I took the opportunity to get our freak on under the Christmas Tree wrap the last of the presents. And the traditional biggest bestest present to be given to the kids from Mum and Dad on Christmas Eve so no fat bastard can get all the fucking credit.

We placed it under the tree.   As a rule, we don’t have anything under the tree until Christmas morning lest curious fingers cannot help themselves.

Seems ‘curious fingers’ was up early this morning.  At some ungodly hour when the effects of a whole bottle of wine to MYSELF had yet to wear off I was awoken to the sound of ripping paper and a squeal of delight from Boo opening the family present of Guitar Hero World tour.

Bastard child.

Today I make all the bits and pieces that I will serve for Christmas Dinner so that no one starves after MOTY manages to serve a dried out raw turkey, again to compliment what my mother is cooking.  My fucking KICK ARSE potato salad, fruit salad of awesome and various desserts and cold meats.

Not served together of course.  Cause that would be weird.

For tonight, Egg Nog and Eton Mess to be consumed while watching Moo have conniptions over High 5 on the Carols tonight.  And because I promised Jennifer that I would post the recipe on Aussie Christmas Eve, seeing that Australians are so freaking awesome we live in the future it gives your Northern Hemisphere types the chance to race out to the store to get the ingredients, I share with you my super secret stolen off the internet years ago recipe.

1/3 cup sugar

2 Egg yolks

4 cups milk (I used skim)

2 Egg whites

3 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla

1/2 cup Whipping cream, whipped

1/4 teaspoon salt

Directions:

Beat the 1/3 cup of sugar and egg yolks together.

Yell at your children.

Add salt and milk and whisk together.

Shake your arse to some Wham! cause it just came up on your ipod and you are shaking your booty while the Damn Emos are rolling their eyes around their black rimmed sockets.

Cook over a medium heat whisking until the mixture coats the back of a metal spoon.

Alternate between dancing and yelling at the damn chillen.

Cool the custard in a tepid water bath while beating the egg whites until soft peaks form.

Thank sweet Jesus that the sound of the mixer is drowning out the all in brawl lively discussion on who is going next on the Guitar Hero World Tour drum kit.

Gradually add the sugar, beating between additions.

Threaten to call Santa to bring these ungrateful heathens coal for Christmas.

Add the egg whites to the cooled custard and mix in well.

Then add the vanilla, considering taking a swig or two cause it looks like the postman is not gunna call today meaning that your fucking Christmas present is not going to arrive before Christmas.

Chill for 3 -4 hours giving you plenty of time to do every thing else in the house to prepare for Christmas and the lazy bastards that cohabit this institution house sit on their fat arses.

Serve with whipped cream and a good slurp of Baileys Irish Creme.

Awesome.

And baking keeps me distracted.  Yesterday we got a call that MPS’s younger brother had a massive heart attack while riding his bike.  He had no pulse for 45 minutes.  Some wonderful good Samaritan administered CPR the whole time till the ambulance got there to whisk him off to the ICU.

He is in Canberra.  We are in Victoria.  We sit with baited breath waiting for the call on what to do next.

And fuck me dead, if one more nurse makes a crack about the appropriateness of his name to the season when we call I am going to lose my shit.

So if you could, amidst your preparations and celebrations, save a thought for my brother in law, Rudolph.

Yeah.  Rudolph.  Shut up.  I know it is funny.

On that depressing note, I wish every single one of you a Happy and Safe Holiday season.  Notice I said ‘Holiday’?  Yeah, yesterday I had to call our IT Helpdesk and a guy with a very thick Indian accent answered.  After we did our bidness, I went to say ‘Have a wonderful Christmas’ but stopped myself in time to say ‘Have a wonderful… break, yeah, OK?’ to which, with a deep laugh he responded ‘Merry Christmas Kelley’

Do you think Santa may be an Indian working in  IT?  Cause that would be totally awesome.

Ho HO HO!!!