Christmas Eve, Boo texted me from his room. I was all ‘do it yourself, Butthead’
For the reindeer: left over Greek bread, blueberries and water. Obviously.
Boo’s letter to Santa (in case Santa was confused about which tree to leave the presents under) And his snack – a fuckload of shortbread and water that he forgot to drink (probably because it wasn’t tequila)
It aint Christmas without a metric buttonne of cherries.
or a table full of desserts – there were 18 lemon and passionfruit pavs in the fridge as well! – that no fucker ate because they were full of lunch (that was eaten at practically fucking EASTER after certain relatives turned up almost 2 hours late again so it was fucking cold and the turkey I was stressing about because of the fucking oven that broke down twice in the last month was being temperamental was dry , but we won’t talk about that…)
Looks like the *insert really long science degree name that scares me here* student Too, likes her new friend
It was an eventful couple of days full of love, laughter and the usual drama.
But there was no bloodshed and Boo forgave Santa for fucking up and getting him the wrong slicer.
And I didn’t have to write a strongly worded letter.
Hope you all had a happy whatever you were celebrating at yours whether it was the birth of a mythical creature or a satisfying bowel movement I am rejoicing along with you.