Worst New Year's evurrr!!
Flu bug. H1N1 possibly? Felt like it. Both the hubs and I had the most romantic week-long quarantine here over the break. (Not.) All fingers point to our adorable niece who was sick over Christmas, but who we couldn't keep our hands off anyway. You know, the kind of super-duper daycare bug that just makes kids adorably sniffly but can bring a full-grown Navy Seal to his knees for a week? Yah, that kind.
And today is officially my first cleanse day since before Christmas. Should be fun. (Not.)
Actually, there wasn't a lot of drinking over the holiday in the first place. All the fun I was supposed to have ... all the bubbly ... all the laughter ... all the music ... the dancing ... the food!! All traded in for Kleenex boxes and body aches.
Oh well. What is it they say? That it's good luck to be sick for New Year's?
Actually, they don't say that. They don't say anything like that.
Hey ... hope you didn't come here to get cheered up today. ;) Unless of course it cheers you up to hear how other people aren't feeling very cheery. In which case, you're so welcome! ;)
I do have one fond memory from just before Christmas. ;) One. And it has to do with liquor stores. Go figure.
So I mentioned that the hubs and I made a nighttime trip to the liquor store about a week before Christmas to stock up. Just so that we could avoid the nasty lineups during the day. Well, on December 23rd, just two days before Christmas, I decided the hubs's gift list could be topped up with a bottle of Grand Marnier. That orange liqueur has just somehow become a Christmas tradition. We didn't have any in the house and I was pretty sure he wasn't getting any from anyone else, so with two days to go until Christmas, I thought I'd venture into a liquor store.
On my way there, I saw a nice elderly man standing in the mall right across from the store, ringing his handheld jingle bells next to a Salvation Army kettle. I had just heard that Sally Ann was low on donations this year, so I dug in my wallet for a five dollar bill and popped it into the old fellow's kettle. I guess I was feeling generous and in the giving spirit back then. Back then before someone gave me the flu.
Anyway. Back to the nice story.
So the man smiles at me. Big happy smile. "God Bless you, miss!" I smile and say, "You, too, good sir!" (or something Dickensian like that). "Merry Christmas to you!" he says. "And you too, good sir!" Etc. etc. I'm literally walking backwards toward the liquor store, waving to him, feeling all good about myself for forking over a fiver. I'd just had my hair done and although it's waaaay too light for me (approximating my colorist's too-blonde shade, surprise, surprise), I had to admit me and the old Salvation Army dude probably painted quite a happy little picture all "Merry Christmas-ing" and "God blessing" each other like that.
So, smile on my face and bounce in my step, I skip into the liquor store. It's pretty busy in there, but nothing I can't handle. I get to the liqueurs and - believe it or not - there is one (count 'em - ONE) bottle of Grand Marnier left on the quickly-emptying shelves. I nab it and tuck it under my arm, football style, ready to tackle any motherf#cker who comes within ten yards of it.
I find the lineup for the cash registers which is forming toward the back of the store. I get in line. Or 'on line' as they say south of the border. I stand there with my Grand Marnier hooked under my arm, shuffling forward, inch by inch. The wait is about ten or fifteen minutes. Not bad for two days before Christmas and totally do-able as far as I was concerned.
Still, it was frustrating enough that when a small, dark-haired woman in her forties stepped right in front of me when I was next in line for the cashier, I couldn't help but tattle on her. "Hey, she butted," I said, to the clerk standing beside me. I glared at her a bit and pointed to the end of the line, waaaaay over there at the back of the store. The clerk informed her that the line formed waaaaay over there at the back of the store, too. So she apologized and headed waaaaay over there to the back of the store.
Next in line, I sidled up happily to the cash register. A nice lady with curly hair punched me through. There was more "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" etc., as I got my wrapped bottle and headed to the exit.
I noticed the glass doors at the front of the store were pulled partially closed and a female security guard - tall and gangly - was standing in front of them. I squeezed past her and out into the mall. There was the guy with the Salvation Army kettle. Wave, wave, bless you, smile, etc. I don't know what made me turn around just then. Was it the security guard? The partially closed doors? I don't know, but I turned around - swinging my too-blonde hair - and what do I see? A looooooooooong line of people waiting OUTSIDE the liquor store to get in. Most of them were so tired of waiting, they were leaning against the wall. And you know what else? They were ALL f#cking glaring at me like they wanted to kill me. "There's the blonde who waltzed right in!" "Get her!" "Yah!! Jump her!!" And I'm sure they would have - if it didn't mean losing their place in line at the liquor store two days before Christmas.
The moral of the story? Always put a fiver in the Sally Ann kettle bell. Because I'm pretty sure that's why the security guard didn't stop me on my way in. Who's gonna stop someone getting blessed by the Salvation Army dude, right?
And 2) Never butt liquor store lines two days before Christmas. Why? Because you'll end up getting the goddamn flu. It's just karma.