Festive.

Well, I won't lie to you. That was the worst Christmas I've ever had. Even worse than the time aliens crept into my room when I was nine and laid eggs in my lower colon that warbled carols in their hideous space-reptile dialect. It sounded like Welsh.

The night before I had a flaming row with Annika so I spent the next day upset about that and not eating much and then making myself ill by consuming sausage rolls and other unhealthy festive bullshit that afternoon. I watched some of the The Tudors, which was okay in a Less Good Than True Blood But Better Than Most Other Crap kind of way.

The evening improved when Richard and Elana came over. Michael showed up soon after and we played some Munchkin, which I won.

I'm heading down to Wellington on the 28th with various other fleshbeings, and staying with the Steph/Jarrod conglomerate over New Years. It'll be nice to catch up with people and try to forget the 25th of December 2009 ever happened. At least for a few days.