Gypsy in Mass
2008-08-04 - 3:23 p.m.
I'm trying to casually ignore the fact that I have to go to work in just under three hours, or else I may spend the next three hours trying to bash my own face in. Work lately is getting so very very crap - partly because I hate it, but also because I hate it. My Saturday morning shift wasn't very pleasant as it was very hot, there was no air conditioning on, and I was very tired indeed. The night before instead of just going round Rory's house after work, we had gone to his mate's house party. I was a bit scared because other people's friends scare me (rather simple really) but everyone was really nice and after I did a shot of sambuca and didn't throw up immediately (however much I wanted to - it was a two-gulp shot, and not really a shot at all as it was in a pint glass) I felt like I had been accepted. One of the girls has invited me round her's next weekend where they'll all be drinking before going out, which is obviously very lovely but poses me with a dilemma. As the only under-18 one there as far as I know, do I just decline the whole event and miss out on this possibly vital me-bonding-with-his-mates period, or do I go to her hourse to socialise and drink and then when they all go into town, face the humiliation of having to leave and go home with my head bent in childish embarrassment, possibly with the themetune to Ballamory playing in the background? It's a real pickle.
Back briefly to the 'I hate work, work is fucking crappola' business, it was so very nice to have yesterday off for Olivia's christening. Although if you had seen me at seven in the morning in my sister's kitchen, sleepily putting pineapple and cheese on sticks, you may have said I looked a tad grumpy, the rest of the day was very enjoyable. I got swindled into attending Mass with my sister in the morning, because she has to give the illusion to the priest that she really loves God and intends for Olivia to really love God too. Attending Mass would have been okay if it wasn't for the fact that it was literally just before the christening service and so I had to go in my dress and my heels and my gold and generally look like a bit of a gypsy alongside all the regular Sunday Mass attendees.
The christening itself though, and the party afterwards, thankfully went without a hitch. We were all a bit weary after the Engagement Party Disaster of 2006 but hurrah, no fisticuffs! My family even managed to behave semi-normally in front of Rory. Except for my mum talking to him about Prince Albert piercings and my dad attempting to speak black to him. You can't have everything though.