I�d like to tell you the wild and wacky tales of my New Years Eve. Unfortunately, THERE IS NONE. I worked until about five to twelve. I spent the actual �midnight� (Rydges Hotel, shame on you, you were TWO MINUTES EARLY) with Anna from the kitchen, and then drove home and ate Christmas pudding.
I did hear some good tsunami jokes though. I mean, before you yell at me, here is my reasoning on this sort of thing: firstly, the newspaper has successfully managed to bring tears to my eyes every day for the past week. To put this into perspective for you... Courtney, my esteemed companion and baby momma, has never once in our nine years of friendship seen me cry.
Except for that time at the end of Labyrinth. Oh Hoggle... Should you need us...
Ahem. Yeah. Which makes me feel entirely justified when I say that: secondly, there are enough tears in this world and my philosophy has always been that laughter is better. I will now laugh in the fashion of badly-dubbed chop socky cinema to prove it:
HAHAHAHA!
So there we were, about ten �food and beverage attendants�, standing around in the function centre because no one was really inclined to DO anything. I mean, it was New Years Eve. We were all feeling kind of slighted.
And then someone says, �Isn�t it terrible about the tsunami?�
Which leads us to, �And of course, the newspapers immediately start with the headlines Tsunami could hit NZ in next eighty years. I mean, what the fuck?�
Me: �Oh yeah, and did you see the one that said TWO KIWIS DEAD, like that�s the real tragedy?�
Which of course led to, �Man, I can see it now, The Warehouse is going to be selling tsunami kits.�
�Get yourself down to the Warewhare for your patented Tsunami Tsurvival Kit! Comes with whistle, flutterboard and a bottle of water!�
I don�t think I can adequately express to you how funny this was. Partially because it was the kind of desperate laughter that makes everything funny, and partially because the guy who was saying it was doing some awesome gestures to accompany his spiel.
Anyway, that was my New Years Eve. And then I got home from work, got up again, and went back to work, where my New Years Day sucked even harder. For the first hour and a half, in the after-breakfast-but-before-lunch lull, GUESS WHAT I GOT TO DO! I got to strip rooms. Oh yeah! The housekeeping staff were short. Lucky me. I got to lug things around and pull sheets off bed. YOU PEOPLE ARE ANIMALS.
Then the restaurant got busy, so I got to spend the next three hours after that working extremely fast. There was one other waiter, the manager, and one chef there... And it turned out that on this fine public holiday, we were one of TWO - count that, one, TWO - restaurants in town that were actually open. I think I speak for us all when I say shitfuckers.
The only thing that could possible improve on this was that I didn�t have time for breakfast. I had a muesli bar. Which would be fine, if I�d finished at two thirty when I was supposed to. Then I could have come home and eaten lunch. Instead it was nearly five by the time I was done. And then I had to walk the god damn dogs, because apparently they can�t do it themselves. And THEN I had to FEED the dogs �cause they were all WAAAH STOP HITTING US WITH THE SHOVEL WE�RE HUNGRY AND WE HAVE NO OPPOSABLE THUMBS!
Anyway, I decided to make myself dinner after that. I had to go to the supermarket first. The supermarket happens to be right opposite the video store, so naturally I went in there beforehand. I realised I probably should have done the food thing first when I was staring at the �T� section for the second time around and the whole world went swirly and black for a second.
Oh well, whaddya gonna do.
Moving on to today�s fine Sunday achievements, I got out of bed at two pm. I took the dogs FOR ANOTHER WALK. I mean, Jesus Christ in a top hat, how much care do these things NEED? And then I came home and had a shower, the second day in a row upon which I have somehow magically forgotten to get myself TOWELS beforehand.
Oh, and I managed to spill an entire class of water into my underwear drawer. That�s god damn right. And that�s why God invented clothes dryers. (Disclaimer: the views of neither Leigh nor The Luggage Van (tm) are representative of Yahweh.)
So it�s five thirty pm and I only just got out of the shower. There�s no fucking point getting dressed NOW. I mean, what�s the point of putting clothes on, anyway, if you�re just going to have to take them off again? I�m just going to lounge about in my bathrobe, and there�s not a god damn thing you can do about it.
I think Courtney is back tomorrow. Thank Christ.
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