Im having a crisis here! Don't mock the spelling while I am having a crisis!
Posts: 2793
| IP: Logged
Louche
Carved TMO on her clit just to make you feel bad
posted
I am also hoping for an exciting dog-related Christmas. Following an entire year of me nagging, cajoling, offering to finance and procure, emotionally blackmailing and generally threatening my mother has decided she's getting another dog.
Obviously, if you're following Dang's thread, you may wonder why I am precisely so evangelically in favour of procuring a pooing and yapping canine friend for my mother. My mother needs a dog. Actually, my mother needs a dog or a husband, but the latter tend to be more difficult to procure, as I haven't yet heard about rescue homes for abandoned 50something gentlemen.
Mother's last dog drooped badly on Christmas Eve last year, rallied on Christmas day with the addition of some well timed sausages before finally giving in to galloping septacemia on Boxing Day morning, leaving S, Mother and I wall-eyed, exhausted and ready to retire into a stupor of alcohol and television. Since the dog demise, my mother had shaded, gradually and terrifyingly, from a thoroughly independent, capable woman into a needy, whining, flap of uselessness.
So, a new dog for Christmas! To throw wrapping paper at and sticks for and take cutesy photographs of with christmas ribbons tied to its ears. To walk off a Christmas lunch of immense and debilitating size, in scraves, down the river, chapped with cold and giggling at dog-antics. Then scrabble and pulling the tiles from tiny jaws and playing forever more with a dog-teeth marked board and feeding slivers of turkey butties to ensure lifetime devotion.
I am looking forward to my dog-Christmas, because my dog-Christmas might bring me a less doormat daughter New Year.
This however, does not affect my statutory rights to moan about the run-up to the event.
Posts: 5776
| IP: Logged
Louche
Carved TMO on her clit just to make you feel bad
posted
quote:Originally posted by scrawny: What kind of dog are you getting, Louche? Is it a puppy?
The dog will be a puppy with potential only to grow to small/medium, will be female and will be hairy. Beyond that it is impossible to give detail as the dog in question will be chosen from some form of rescue centre. Which will involve me, fingers through cage doors, weeping and attempting to resist urge to pack in job and adopt wide range of abandoned animals and become mad sanctuary owning person with wellingtons and scruffy hair.
Also, will probably be from Bolton or Manchester dog rescue centre, as rumour has it that one gets a better class of rescue dog from these two than one does at the Wigan or Bolton rescue centres. The day I discovered that a canine class system existed for abandoned and beaten puppies was the day that I finally lost all optimism.
Posts: 5776
| IP: Logged
quote:Originally posted by Louche: and become mad sanctuary owning person with wellingtons and scruffy hair.
I already look like this - this could explain why people I don't know try to give me half-dead animals. I thought they were just being nice and thinking I needed company.
-------------------- Call that a contribution? Posts: 1162
| IP: Logged
posted
Some of the nicest people I know have worked in an animal sanctuary at some point or other and/or have their homes and lives taken over by wellies, walkies and dog hair.
It's nice to know that a person is kind-hearted enough to take in and comfort waifs and strays... especially if they'll extend the principle to friends in times of trouble.
But I digress.... I've always fancied rescuing a greyhound.
Posts: 915
| IP: Logged
posted
I had a date with a bloke on Sunday who does voluntary work in a wildlife sanctuary. Before I met him I thought Ooooh! How cute and lovely! Now I think it was just a line to get dates.
TOPIC DRIFT CORRECTION: And a couple of years ago I got a dog 4 weeks before Christmas. On Christmas day I bought him to the family home for everyone to play with and London cracked his head on the glass coffee table and pulled out one of his teeth while playing tug o' war.
quote:Originally posted by Uber Trick: I had a date with a bloke on Sunday who does voluntary work in a wildlife sanctuary. Before I met him I thought Ooooh! How cute and lovely! Now I think it was just a line to get dates.
posted
Well, if you're thinking of using it I'd say 50 / 50 it helps to get you a first date but if you don't deliver in other areas then wildlife sanctuary or not you won't be getting any more.
The word "overwrought" always springs to mind when I think of Christmas disasters of years gone by.
Last year's was a fairly standard, distressing but not very anecdotal pissed screaming argument - which my pissed sister started when she decided that my brother and I "DIDN'T LOVE HER". Cue pissed retorts of "WE DO LOVE YOU YOU SILLY COW" Ad infinitum. I should point out that we were all well into our 20s at the time, in fact some of us much closer to 30. Ahem.
Apart from that it's usually ovens which do it for me. The one year I managed to actually spend the happy day with just my partner in our flat started really well....... pressies a deux, freezing but romantic stroll on the beach etc. Then degenerated when I discovered that the oven had just died half way through cooking the dual vegetarian/carnivorous Christmas dinner feast and I had to finish the whole lot off in one of those odd microwave-with-grill contraptions. But not until I'd phoned our shyster (sp?) of a landlord and berated him roundly for the crapness of his domestic appliances (again, I cite alcohol).
Then there was the year when there was a powercut at the family home during the cooking of my mother's usual epic Christmas lunch and my mother made the executive decision to decamp the entire family to my flat a few miles away because I had gas. I can't recall why this initiated a near hysterical response on my part - but screaming four-letter insults at one another in front of my stiff-upper-lipped grandad was not the most gratifying episode in the mother-daughter relationship.
It all culminated in a small convoy driving over to the flat (not the same one as in the first incident btw) carrying baking trays of half cooked turkey and all the trimmings, my grandad accidentally knocking on the wrong door whilst bearing a giant pan of potatos, and me sulking in a (lukewarm) bath so as to avoid WW3 in my bloody kitchen.
And what I've learned from this is.... don't drink, never volunteer to do the catering or go near the person who does and always cook on gas folks.
Posts: 915
| IP: Logged
posted
Christmas this year could go various ways. It's quite exciting.
Option 1.- We may well be spending Christmas with TheGree's ex-husband's family (who are Vietnamese). Coz of MiniGree, innit.
Now, in theory I think this could actually be quite fun; it's a new experience, there'd be some really good snowy walks in lovely hilly countryside, and we'd enjoy some tasty and unusual food.
However, I imagine the reality will be not half as fun, mainly because I'll have to be on best behaviour and won't be able to start drinking at about half past ten in the morning and then carry on for the rest of the day. And Christmas without a constant little drinkypoo in your hand all the time is a bleak prospect indeed. I might have to nip off to the loo every twenty minutes to snort a line of powdered booze or something.
Option 2.- The second possibility is with my parents, in Leeds. Here we would be rewarded in the alcohol department, but TheGree wouldn't be able to totally relax, coz you're at yer in-laws, innit (though I guess it beats ex-in-laws with a slightly mean, disapproving streak). MiniGree would like it, I think, but there probably won't be any snow for us to go and have fun in, just drizzly cold crap wetness and mud and grimness. Snow: not as good as it used to be.
Option 3.- Alternatively, we could just bugger off to the Caribbean and spend Christmas on the beach.
Option 4.- Spend Christmas Day at Anthony's mad Restaurant in Leeds, and drink them dry of their champagne beer.
posted
Did I tell the story about my great grandma calling my mother a fucking cunt? I know dementia isn't supposed to be funny, but I can't help it. The grinning.
Without great grandma around, Christmas is no fun at all.
Posts: 1083
| IP: Logged
posted
Hippychick and Abby - so sorry to hear your sad news. Hope you're both doing okay.
Since Chris and I moved in together this year, I would quite like to spend Christmas together in our flat, but I have this thing about each Christmas / birthday potentially being my dad's last (although it's now well over a year since he was diagnosed with lung cancer and hasn't had any chemo for about 9 months. AND, almost a year since I did my bungee jump, unbelievably) so I couldn't really not go to my parent's for Christmas without major anxiety. Having said that, now that my niece is on the scene, Christmas with the family is pretty fun. She's 15 months old now so great entertainment value and fun to buy presents for. And Chris gets to come too, as his mum is also invited (because he has the divorced parents issue). And the dog she looks after. And my aunty. And her dog.
Which makes for my mum, my dad, my sister, my brother in law, their baby, my aunt, her dog, my boyfriend, his mum, her dog and me. = quite a lot of roast potatoes and wrapping paper!
-------------------- Maybe you're the mugs. Posts: 1066
| IP: Logged
Is to be not arsed. If only someone put paid to the whole sheebang. I might be sounding like a scrooge, but be true, how many more years of this can a body survive? Poor fewly! If the lalalala of false holiday cheer doesn’t get me the mulled wine will. I’ve developed an allergy for velvet antlered shop girls and clerks with their bells jingling. Since when did a trip to fucking GAP feel like an HG Wells inspired musical montage?
Any road, as my bank statement appears to’ve been written in the lesser value of binary code, I couldn’t afford a mouse tit let alone the sexy cheetah fauxfur that's the object of my lustful Christmas eye.
Holiday memories? Bah Humbug.
-------------------- You bet your sweet ass! Posts: 4
| IP: Logged
Number 1: (where the fuck is the octate key on a mac keyboard?) Old home with Mum, Dad, Sister, Brother in Law and their six kids. Tends to end with Sister and Dad arguing (though light hearted, the undertone is always a pisser) and the younger kids making lots of noise, climbing over me and kicking me in the head, the older kids escaping to the sanctuary of my old room and playstation.
Number 2: Home with best mate and his mum and sister. usually a lot of talking, some eosoteric homaeopathy chat and general best mate and mum strange dynamic thing going on (they love each other, but do they like each other, will they argue until his mum hmmmm sage like and he gets the hump - or will they all just get drunk and strange? Plus there are a lot of 'issues' between them at the moment).
Number 3: LA. If I can get the money together, off to see the little lady and her family.
Number 4: Weatherspoons, gutter, headache.
-------------------- If Chuck Norris is late, time better slow the fuck down Posts: 2741
| IP: Logged
![[Mad]](mad.gif)
![[Frown]](frown.gif)
Printer-friendly view of this topic