Excited much?

It's only hit me this week that Christmas is looming big-time. It was around Tuesday that I actually realised I could count the amount of working days I have left this year using just my hands (which is a good thing because the office gets chilly and I don't want to have to use my toes as well); my last day is actually a half-day, but I'm not going to chop off a finger to make it properly representative.

It's also around this point of the year that people start mumbling the words "Christmas cards" to one another, and lo and behold about 1000 were dumped on my desk yesterday morning. Usually I look at them with disdain for an hour or so, and consider sweeping them into my bin while no-one's looking; unfortunately I know they'd be discovered at some point, so I begrudgingly just start signing. Yesterday, however, I was all fired-up and started signing almost immediately. 

It helps that I have a short name, but even then it ends up getting quite painful for me, and rather cryptic for the recipients of the cards. First of all, because I'm left-handed I end up curling my hand around the words so I don't smudge my signature or anyone elses. This, combined with the sheer number of cards that need to be signed, means that I eventually end up with horrific festive crip-hand, and a signature that begins looking quite normal, but ultimately ends up looking like it says either 'Tin' or 'TM.' Maybe I should just be a trademark?

In related matters, I've always been tempted, rather than just writing my name, to add something ridiculous like "love you!" or "cheeky cheeky! ;D" to a random card, safe in the knowledge that I'd never know to whom it would be sent. Sadly, I don't want to be fired have the guts, and fortunately by the time I've thought about it I'm well on the way to the aforementioned crip-hand and inability to write anything comprised of more than three letters.

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An aside:

I received an unexpected response to the aside in my previous post about Gail from Coronation Street looking like a hamster. The ever-awesome iPandah emailed me to say that she's always thought her sister's dog, Sugar, looks like Gail, and I can't help but agree with her.

She is a seven year-old Maltese, normally looks cute (just not on this occasion), and likes swimming in canals and chasing ducks.

Oh, and apparently so does Sugar.

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After work on Thursday I decided to head out for some late-night Christmas shopping - in Kingston, I hasten to add, not Westfield; my reason for this was that I actually wanted to do some Christmas shopping rather than just wander around an immense shopping mall cooing "look at the pretty lights!"

The best laid plans, though… 

It took me well over an hour to get there, which is frankly ridiculous, because it seems like everyone else had decided to do their Christmas shopping that night as well. The place was *heaving.* I eventually parked, and kicked off with a couple of spectacular FAILS trying to get some bits for Sparky Ma. Things picked up after that, though, as I hit-up a couple of stores, got a bit flirtrageous with some of the lady assistants, and ended up being given two bags of freebies (I can't say what as it'll give away what one of the presents I bought was) and a fun-size Mars bar.

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An aside:

BRING ON THE WALL!

This totally couldn't have happened to a nicer person. And, my, isn't silver lycra a good look for her?

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With shopping done (ish) I headed to Borders, where I used a 40% off voucher to buy a copy of I Love You, Beth Cooper, which I've been intrigued by since Dinah wrote about it a while back. While paying for the book I took the opportunity to complain to the guy at the till about the music they were playing instore - Take That's Greatest Hits. He wearily agreed with me, suggesting that it wasn't actually his choice and he would've preferred some Metallica or something.

Having paid, I headed upstairs to Starbucks, where I grabbed a Grande Misto and a comfy chair, and began reading. Sitting in Borders with a new book and a cup of coffee is one of my favourite chill-out pastimes, but I have to admit this time I wasn't quite feeling the vibe. There were a couple of middle-aged guys to my left loudly talking about secondhand cars, some scrummy-mummies squawking away behind me, and a slightly weird woman in front of me who looked like the sort of person who'd pick her own skin and eat it. And to top it all off Take That started looping round again.

As 'Relight my Fire' began, I slipped my receipt into my copy of I Love You, Beth Cooper, dug out my phone, and texted-up Best Mate Jo, who was a hardcore Take That fan back in the day.

I am in Borders in Kingston and they are playing Take That's greatest hits on rotation. I have already voiced my disgust to one member of staff, and I now feel compelled to leave because f**king Lulu is about to kick off.

That done I stuck my phone in my pocket, grabbed my bag, and legged it out of the store. Just as I got outside I felt a vibration, not in the Force, but in my pocket. It was Jo:

U gotta b strong enuff 2 walk on thro the nite… Yeah!

And so I walked off through the night, with that god-awful song playing in my head for the next hour.

I hate Lulu.