Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Friday, December 12, 2003

Deck The Halls

Oddly, before the lesbisexual housemates left, the house was even more bedecked with tinsel and fairy lights than it is at the moment. There were four of us sitting around the lounge last night, mulling over the lack of basic glitter in our lives these days so close to the big day when an jolly fat man slides down your shaft in the middle of the night.

So raged the merits for a fake tree and for a real one. I have no problems with the former as I've grown up with a raddled old green tree that used to drop from the loft the day after my sister's birthday. There were several signs that Christmas had arrived: there was the yell of "Fuck!" by my skyward father as he tried to retrieve said tree. The second would be my mother dusting off the Phil Specter's Christmas album so we could listen to Darline Love and co belt out songs to distant and crackly it sounded like they were originally recorded on sellotape. The final one that proved that the big day was only around the corner was the arrival of the Kays Spring/Summer catalogue, abnormally.

The musing continued over dinner (in all other housemate's case) and over knitting (in mine) as we put across learned arguments as to what type we should get. Real, fake - all virtues were discussed, including a tree that had caught the eye of the Fabulous Caroline, girlfriend of Impossibly Beautiful Mark. It was a bright pink Barbie one, fibre optic, that glowed heavenly in Woolies widow. She wasn't surprised that I too had spied this garish monstrosity and secretly coveted it.

The look of horror in Mark's eyes said it all. I believe that finally, after all this time, we may almost be oppressing him, the poor boy. So if we do indeed get the pink tree, I think it's only fair that we get him a black one, with go-faster stripes, low suspension and a kicking sound system.

And maybe some pink fluffy dice, he added coyly.

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