When I spoke to Victoria, lounging about in Perth like a flaming gallah, she thought I was jesting when I described my Christmas as follows:
Leigh sits in the dark living room, with only the harsh blinking of the Christmas tree. She is eating Christmas pudding - Pudding For One - and watching Home Alone. Quietly, between the sobs and the gulps of steamed fruit, she sings to herself - Have yourself... A merry... Little Christmas... Make the yuletide...
GAY. Anyway. My family... Has abandoned me. Sister: vacationing in Australia. Parents: gone to Hawke�s Bay to spend the holiday season with family there, and intending to journey north for New Years. Grandmother: gone with parents and other misc. family.
Leigh: alone.
A-L-O-N-E. Now, we thought it was bad when they abandoned me on Easter. No chocolate for me. But Christmas? Here I am. In the big house. With only my two vigilant dogs for company.
I add the vigilant, because - note: here is where I finally stop smelling the poppies and wander back onto the narrative path of this sobfest - I did ending up watching Home Alone this afternoon. In between Victoria�s distressed cries of STOP IT STOP IT WHY?, she didn�t take me seriously. Well, let me tell you kids, there is nothing funny about burglarisation.
I�m ready for you, Harry and Marv. With my two vigilant hounds and my many, many booby traps. They�re painfully hilarious, for the benefit of my invisible audience. Or would that be... hilariously painful?!
Whatever happened to Macaulay Culkin, anyway? (Answer: Saved!) All I know is, as I sit here clapping my hands to my face in a Culkinesque display of prayer, Courtney and I used to have plans to make The Church of MacCulkin. Oh, Macaulay, our saviour: he has shown us the way. Hold up your blue mood rings, My Girls of the world! Unite!
What the fuck was I rambling about? Oh yeah. Prepare for two weeks of ear-bleeding
narration.
Next - Dec 25
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