It's Christmas Eve. In my fridge, three different meat joints are jostling for space with heaps of vegetables, Tesco's entire cheese stock, and lots of old, rotting food that I haven't thrown out yet (am clearly domestic goddess).
I AM NOT PREPARED. The tree only went up on Wednesday night, I still have presents to wrap, and I'm pretty sure someone important is going to be without a present on Christmas Day and I'll be forced to wrap up a box of at-home hair dye. My boyfriend came over at 2.30am today on the way home from a gig to pick up one of his presents that hadn't been delivered when we did the Great Gift Swap (because I'd ordered it very late, despite having it bookmarked on my browser for about 2 months), and I haven't written a single list. I'm usually all about the lists.
So as you can see, tomorrow is full of comedy potential. I'll have forgotten a vital ingredient (I'm betting on potatoes), will have a bitch fit at every single member of my family, cry, drop something important, and burn/cut/otherwise maim myself/others. Obviously, you won't want to miss that, so I'm going to live blog it for you! Hurrah! Expect lots of swearing and CAPITAL LETTERS indicating disaster.
Tonight, however, I will be making a sodding quiche. Yes I know it's not Christmassy, and it's a god damn pain in the ass, but Mama Sween asked ever so nicely, and threw in the puppy dog eyes for good measure. Add to that the 'Oh, well if you don't want to, don't worry about it' guilt trip comment (I heard: 'You're a fucking awful daughter, this is the one thing I've asked you to do and you won't do it. After everything I've done for you?! I'm going to die one day and this will haunt you. Bitch.') , and she had her way. But first, there will be mulled wine. I find it makes everything better, even pastry-making.
Y'all have a fabulous Christmas Eve. See you bright and early for food and swearing!
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